^  '- 

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THE 
ROAD  OF  AMBITION 


OF  CALIF.  LIBMHY,  LOS  AHGELBS 


THE   ROAD 
OF    AMBITION 


BY 

ELAINE  STERNE 


Illustrated  by 
RAY  N.  JACKSON 


New  York 
Britton  Publishing  Company 


Copyright,  1917 

by 
Britton  Publishing  Company 

All  Rights  Reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


MOTHER 

I  want  you  to  accept  this,  my  first  novel,  as  your 
own.  Your  quick  sympathy  has  made  me  put  forth 
my  best  efforts — your  warm  interest  from  the  mo- 
ment it  was  conceived  helped  its  growth  and  develop- 
ment as  nothing  else  would  have  done. 

— Elaine  Sterne. 


2133091 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  WORKSHOP  OF  VULCAN   .  1 1 

II.     NEDDA  OF  THE  TENDER  HEART  27 

III.  A  DREAM  OF  GREAT  RICHES     .  42 

IV.  NEWS  FROM  BENSON    ...  65 
V.     DAWN  OF  A  NEW  LIFE    ...  80 

VI.     CARES  OF  THE  RICH     ...  94 

VII.     MAY  LARABEE'S  DIPLOMACY    .  102 

VIII.     FORTUNE     RESHAPES     THREE 

LIVES 115 

IX.     THE     EDUCATION     OF     "BiG 

BILL" 125 

X.    THE     AWAKENING     OF     MR. 

MATTHEWS 140 

XI.    THE  RISING  STORM   ....  149 

XII.     A  BATTLE  OF  WITS   ....  167 

XIII.  MAY  PLAYS  HER  TRUMPS  .     .  177 

XIV.  COLT  SETS  A  TRAP   .     .     .     .  185 
XV.     COLT  SHOWS  His  COLORS   .     .  195 

XVI.     DAPHNE  VAN  STEER  ....  205 

XVII.     MAY'S  EYES  ARE  OPENED  .     .  219 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.  THE  WOMAN  OF  His  DREAMS  .  225 

XIX.  DISILLUSION 234 

XX.  THE  AFTERMATH 248 

XXI.  MAN  PROPOSES 261 

XXII.  THE  HOMECOMING    ....  276 

XXIII.  BILL  PLANS  A  TEST  ....  290 

XXIV.  THE  SHACK  IN  THE  HILLS  .     .  303 
XXV.  PHILIP  COLT  ARRIVES    .     .     .  313 

XXVI.  A  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS  .     .323 

XXVII.  DAPHNE'S  DECISION  ....  335 

XXVIII.  NEW  TRIUMPHS 353 

XXIX.  MAY  LARABEE  TURNS  A  TRICK  369 

XXX.  FRIENDS  FROM  THE  PAST  .     .  381 

XXXI.  THE  BATTLE  ROYAL  ....  391 

XXXII.  THE  ONLY  WAY 407 

XXXIII.  DAPHNE  LEARNS  THE  TRUTH  .  422 

XXXIV.  THE  ROAD  OF  AMBITION    .     .438 
XXXV.  THE  DARK  HOUR 449 

XXXVI.  THE  CRISIS 463 

XXXVII.  THE  DAWN  OF  A  NEW  DAY  ..481 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

HE  CAUGHT  HER  FACE  BETWEEN  His  HANDS  AND 
GAZED  DEEP  INTO  HER  EYES        Frontispiece 

IE  LOVED  THE  ROAR  OF  THE  HUNGRY  FUR- 
NACES           16 

THEY  SAT  LONG  BEFORE  THE  FIRE,  HER 

CHEEK  AGAINST  His  HAND          .         .     352 

NEDDA  DID  NOT  MOVE  >.  .  .  HER  EYES  FAS- 
TENED ON  THE  WOMAN'S  FACE    .         .488 


The  Road  of  Ambition 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   WORKSHOP    OF   VULCAN 

HpO  Big  Bill  Matthews  the  Bethel  Steel  Works 
•*•  spelt  Power  with  a  capital  "P" — Power  to  fill 
one's  stomach — to  warm  one's  home — to  clothe  one's 
body.  That  row  of  grimy  buildings,  whose  chim- 
neys belched  forth  flame-shot  smoke  thrilled  him 
strangely — thrilled  him  without  his  knowing  why. 

He  loved  the  roar  of  the  hungry  furnaces — the 
little  flame  tongues,  curled  venomously  about  the 
edges  of  the  iron  doors  shut  fast  on  them — always 
trying  to  get  out — those  flames — like  something  cap- 
tive. That  was  it — the  feeling  that  you  had  bottled 
up  with  your  own  two  hands  a  devil  that  would  finish 
you  mighty  quick  if  ever  you  let  it  loose ! 

It  was  not  unlike  a  beast — beautiful,  treacherous, 
sleek — ready  to  spring  at  the  hand  that  fed  it — 
watching  its  chance  to  tear  you  to  pieces — to  grind 
you  to  bits,  but  cowering  at  the  touch  of  a  finger, 
the  glance  of  an  eye. 

Danger — danger — always  danger.  You  felt  its 
hot  breath  on  your  cheek  as  you  neared  the  boiling, 
ii 


12  The  Road  of  Ambition 

seething  steel.  You  heard  its  deafening  voice  in  the 
crash  of  the  seven-ton  hammer.  You  saw  its  mon- 
strous strength  as  it  flattened  out  a  glowing  ingot, 
sixteen  hundred  pounds  of  white  heat,  at  the  hammer 
driver's  touch. 

Power — power — more  power.  Even  the  pigmy 
men  thrilled  to  it  and  grinned  in  the  face  of  the  death 
that  lurked  imminent  in  the  rigid  glowing  bar  they 
tossed  about  like  a  plaything — or  at  the  heats  of  the 
great  basic  furnace. 

That  was  fireworks  for  you !  Free  for  all !  The 
gush  of  blood-red  lava — sparks  flying  skyward — 
a  molten  river  of  death  from  which  the  men  sprang 
back  with  an  oath,  but  which  they  guided  unerringly. 

It  gripped  Bill  anew  each  time  he  saw  it.  It  gave 
him  the  feeling  of  triumphal  strength.  It  proved 
conclusively  that  man  could  do  anything — anything 
he  set  his  mind  to !  If  he  could  control  steel,  he 
could  control  the  world — for  steel  was  the  world 
when  you  came  to  think  of  it !  Given  your  two  fists 
and  the  thing  that  made  you  know  when  to  use  them 
— a  man  had  everything! 

Long  ago  he  had  honestly  tried  to  hate  the  big 
industry.  It  was  on  the  first  day  he  had  seen  the 
Works.  He  was  but  a  boy  then.  His  father  had 
been  hurt,  they  said — his  great,  strong  father.  He 
had  followed  his  mother  whimpering  with  a  fear  of 
something — he  knew  not  what,  but  half  eager  to  see, 
half  ashamed  of  his  eagerness. 


The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  13 

They  had  found  his  father  stretched  out  close  to 
the  furnaces  he  had  tended  so  faithfully.  In  the 
glare  of  the  fire  the  deep  gash  on  his  forehead 
glowed  like  a  thing  alive.  Bill,  trembling,  and  sob- 
bing, had  heard  the  men  whisper — "It's  got  him. 
It  most  always  does."  He  had  seen  his  mother  fling 
herself  on  the  still  form  and  he  had  wanted  then 
with  all  his  heart  to  despise  the  Thing — the  cruel, 
merciless  Thing  which  had  crushed  out  his  father's 
life. 

But  even  as  he  tried,  he  knew  he  could  not.  He 
knew  he  would  some  day  come  to  love  it — to  answer 
its  voice  when  it  called  him. 

He  heard  his  mother  weakly  cursing  it,  but  in- 
stead of  echoing  her  words,  he  had  raised  wonder- 
ing eyes  to  the  blazing  fires.  Above  the  crashing 
tumult  he  had  heard  in  his  heart  the  song  it  sang  to 
the  clanging  of  iron  against  iron.  "Power — power 
— more  power.  .  .  ."  He  never  forgot  it. 

This  was  fifteen  years  ago.  Fifteen  years  of 
back-breaking  toil — toil  that  stretched  even  his  tre- 
mendous strength  to  the  snapping  point.  Toil  that 
reddened  his  face  from  the  fire's  glare,  that  knotted 
his  muscles  like  great  bands  on  his  bare  arms,  that 
flung  him  staggering  and  weary  to  his  bed  at  nights; 
toil  that  did  not  drag  him  down  as  it  had  a  thou- 
sand others,  but  which  moulded  him  into  the  giant 
frame,  the  iron  nerves,  the  superb  physique  that 
made  men  fear  and  love  him. 


14  The  Road  o"f  Ambition 

He  liked  to  think  he  had  served  his  mistress  well; 
that  he  had  never  missed  a  minute  of  his  twelve 
hours  a  day  for  seven  days  in  the  week,  except  when 
his  mother  had  answered  the  Great  Call.  After  that 
he  went  back  to  work  with  redoubled  vigor,  for  from 
that  moment  steel  had  become  his  one  love. 

And  as  he  gave  to  it  all  of  himself,  unstintingly, 
it  yielded  one  by  one,  its  precious  secrets  to  him. 
With  infinite  labor  he  set  to  work  testing — discard- 
ing— searching  for  the  Great  Process  he  would  some 
day  discover — the  Process  which  would  be  his  just 
reward  for  years  of  passionate  devotion. 

Each  day  held  for  him  a  revelation — and  that,  in 
short,  is  the  Lure  of  Steel.  You  think  you've  solved 
its  limitations — its  mysteries — only  to  find  you  know 
nothing  about  it — nothing  whatever!  There's  a 
challenge  in  a  game  like  that — a  game  with  a  new 
twist  to  it  every  day — a  game  that  flirts  with  death 
— that  a  man  who's  half  a  man  will  answer — and 
Big  Bill  was  biding  his  time — some  day,  he  grinned 
to  himself,  he'd  show  'em.  .  .  .  ! 

When  Big  Bill  became  foreman  of  the  cogging, 
his  men  looked  to  it  spry — no  shirking  in  that  crew 
— no  grumbling  about  spells.  They  liked  him  too 
well  and  they  feared  him  too  much  to  slur  their 
work.  All  save  Ole,  the  "Big  Swede,"  who  sulked 
and  slipped  as  much  of  his  task  as  he  dared  on  his 
fellows'  shoulders. 


The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  15 

Ole  stood  six  feet  four  in  his  bare  feet — a  blond 
viking.  He  had  come  but  recently  to  the  Works. 
He  boasted  he  was  not  afraid  of  man  or  beast — 
and  he  hated  with  a  fierce,  sullen  intensity  those 
weaker  than  himself.  As  the  men  left  him  more 
and  more  alone  in  his  moroseness,  he  took  his  spite 
out  on  Tony — Tony  Dufrano — the  white-faced  boy 
who  somehow  stuck  at  his  work  in  spite  of  a  racking 
cough. 

Between  Big  Bill  and  the  boy  was  a  bond.  The 
foreman  lived  in  the  same  rooming  house  with  the 
Dufranos — and  Tony  had  a  sister,  Nedda.  Some 
whispered  that  the  Big  Boss  was  "stuck  on  her,"  but 
others  shook  their  heads — he  loved  his  work  too 
well.  In  any  case,  he  was  often  at  Tony's  side,  help- 
ing him,  encouraging  him,  and  the  crew  waited. 
Some  day  Big  Bill  and  the  Swede  would  have  it 
out,  and  when  they  did  it  would  be  a  scrap  worth 
seeing. 

It  happened  on  an  evening  when  the  men  were 
working  overtime — bending  breathless — tense — to 
their  tasks — stripped  to  the  waist — faces  black — 
with  sooty  streams  of  sweat  coursing  down. 

Big  Bill  had  left  the  building  for  a  moment. 
Tolifsky,  the  little  Polish  Jew,  latest  recruit  to  the 
ranks,  had  caught  his  hand  in  the  press  and  ran 
about  screaming  that  he  would  have  the  law  on  them 
— that  he  was  a  poor  man  with  a  wife  and  five  chil- 
dren— that  the  pain  was  driving  him  mad It  was 


i6  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Big  Bill  who  had  carried  him  off  to  the  hospital 
shack.  Then  the  trouble  broke  loose. 

Tony's  spell  of  work  was  over.  Gasping  and 
coughing,  he  wiped  his  forehead  and  moved  back. 
It  was  time  for  the  Swede  to  take  up  the  task  where 
he  had  dropped  it,  but  Ole,  his  face  heavy,  brooding, 
did  not  move  from  his  corner. 

Tony  nodded  toward  the  men  leaping  forward, 
springing  back — leaping  forward  again  like  gnomes 
in  some  fantastic  fire  dance,  as  they  shot  the  ingot 
along  the  anvil. 

"Get  busy!"  he  called,  dropping  down,  "you're  on 
now » 

The  Swede  growled  something  and  stood  up,  his 
shoulders  hunched,  his  head  set  between  them. 

"No  my  turn,"  he  muttered. 

The  men  watched.  The  air  vibrated  with  a  heavy 
tension. 

Tony,  pulling  a  shirt  over  his  head,  did  not  glance 
up. 

"Sure  it  is,"  he  said  easily,  "don't  be  scared  to 
work,  you  big  stiff." 

The  Swede  spat  through  his  teeth  and  with  a 
growl  reached  out  his  arm  and  flung  Tony  to  the 
ground.  The  boy,  gasping  from  the  suddenness  of 
the  blow,  staggered  up,  wiping  away  the  blood  which 
trickled  down  his  cheek. 

"You — you "  he  sobbed,  then  choking,  fell  to 

coughing. 


MHM 


He  Loved  the  Koar  of  the  Hungry  Furnaces 


The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  17 

But  Ole,  his  little  eyes,  red  points  of  hate,  raised 
his  fist  as  though  to  crush  the  boy  into  a  thousand 
pieces — when  an  arm  shot  out  against  his  head  with 
a  sound  like  the  crack  of  a  whip.  The  Swede  reeled 
and  stumbled.  The  men  sent  up  a  shout,  but  it  died 
in  their  throats  as  they  saw  Big  Bill's  face — black, 
threatening,  terrible. 

The  Swede  turned  slowly,  staggering,  and  stared 
at  Bill.  Then,  with  a  cry,  he  launched  himself  for- 
ward with  all  the  weight  of  his  great  body.  His 
swing  barely  missed  Bill's  jaw,  and  Bill,  with  a  swift 
left,  flung  his  head  backward. 

Ole,  drunk  with  madness,  came  back  with  the  roar 
of  a  beast,  but  he  could  not  reach  Bill.  Only  once  he 
struck  him — a  mere  shoulder  tap.  His  blows  fell 
impotent  before  the  Big  Boss'  strength. 

Bill  met  him  quietly — unconquerable — his  arm 
shot  out.  The  Swede's  head  rocked  on  his  shoulder, 
each  sledgelike  blow  told.  Blind  from  the  blood  on 
his  face  he  sank  down — the  desire  to  murder 
quenched. 

Bill  regarded  him  quietly. 

"Next  time  you  touch  the  kid,"  he  said  slowly, 
"I  guess  I'll  have  to  kill  you,"  and  he  turned  away. 

Tony  crouched  gasping  in  a  corner,  staunching  the 
flow  of  blood  from  the  ugly  gash  on  his  forehead. 

"What  hit  you  when  you  fell?"  asked  Bill  as  he 
approached.  "The  Swede  couldn't  a  cut  you  up 
like  that." 


i8  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Tony  shook  his  head. 

"Piece  o'  scale,  I  guess,"  said  he,  finally. 

Bill  stooped  down  and  picked  up  a  handful  of  it. 

"Queer  stuff.  Ain't  no  feather  bed  to  fall  on; 
hard  as  rocks." 

"Might  as  well  fall  on  a  piece  of  pure  steel — 
couldn't  cut  no  deeper." 

"That's  right,"  said  Bill,  suddenly,  as  if  struck 
with  the  idea,  "It  had  ought  to  be  hard,  hadn't  it? 
It's  peeled  off  of  pure  steel " 

"Hurts  like  the  Old  Nick,"  sniffed  Tony. 

Bill  dropped  the  pieces  in  his  pocket. 

"Come  on,"  he  said.  "Time  for  all  hands  to 
knock  off." 

Silently,  the  men  dropped  their  tools  and  stared 
after  him.  The  Swede  stumbled  to  his  feet,  his  bat- 
tered face  strangely  grotesque  in  the  red,  wavering 
light. 

"Gawd!"  whispered  old  Mack,  the  hammer 
driver,  "that  weren't  no  fight  for  the  Boss — that 
were  play  for  him.  He  ain't  even  winded.  You're 
mighty  lucky,  Swede,  that  you've  got  a  whole  rib  in 
your  carcass!" 

The  Swede  did  not  answer. 

"Some  fight,"  nodded  Eddie,  his  assistant — 
"wish't  it  had  been  longer  though.  Say,  if  the  Boss 
ever  loosened  up  for  fair  he  could  lick  the  whole 
works  with  one  hand  tied  behind  him!" 

The  men  nodded  solemnly. 


The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  19 

"He's  got  a  punch  that  would  put  the  champ  out 
of  business  I"  Eddie  stretched,  and  yawned,  the  ten- 
sion at  an  end. 

"He's  all  right,  the  Boss  is,  eh,  fellers?" 

The  men  agreed  gravely — those  who  did  not 
understand  the  words  caught  the  meaning.  They 
watched  the  Swede  slink  away  like  a  whipped  dog 
and  were  silent. 

Tony  dragged  his  cap  over  his  eyes  and,  still  limp- 
ing, followed  Big  Bill  down  the  muddy  black  path, 
across  the  network  of  tracks  to  the  gate.  Once  out- 
side, Bill  waited  for  him. 

"He'll  leave  you  alone  after  this,"  was  all  he 
said. 

Tony  nodded. 

"If  you  hadn't  come  along,  Bill "  he  began, 

then  stopped.  Bill  smiled. 

"Go  on!  If  I  hadn't  come  along  most  likely 
Mack  or  some  other  fellow  would  have  trimmed  the 
Swede  in  half  the  time — eh?" 

Tony  drew  a  long  breath. 

"It  ain't  the  first  time  you've  helped  me  neither." 

Bill  patted  the  boy's  shoulder. 

"Have  to  help  my  A-i  workers,  don't  I  ?  They're 
mighty  scarce." 

But  Tony  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  always  say  that,"  he  answered 
swiftly,  "but  it  ain't  true — it  ain't  true.  I  don't  do 
half  a  man's  work  and  instead  of  firing  me,  along 


2O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

you  come  and  give  me  a  hand — that's  what  you  do — 
and  I  ain't  the  only  one." 

Bill's  laugh  was  a  deep  rumble. 

"Awful  wise  tonight,  ain't  you,  kid,  just  because 
you  got  beat  up  a  bit !" 

Tony  smiled,  but  suddenly  he  stopped  short. 

"Say,  Bill,  honest,  why  do  you  do  it?" 

"Do  what?" 

"You  know  what  I  mean — the  other  bosses  don't." 

"You  pin  a  feller  down  so,  Tony,"  he  laughed. 
"Well,  since  you  ask  me,  I'll  hand  it  to  you  straight. 
You're  doing  your  levelest,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes—  but " 

"Well,  your  levelest  ain't  mine  by  a  long  shot, 
is  it?  But  is  it  your  fault  that  you  ain't  got  a  con- 
stitution like  a  bull?  No,  of  course  not.  You  do 
the  best  you  can  with  what  you've  got,  don't  you  ? 
The  Lord  don't  expect  no  more  of  any  of  us." 

Tony  stared  at  the  big  man  beside  him. 

"Bill,"  he  said  at  length,  "you're  different  from 
the  rest.  It  ain't  only  that  you're  bigger  and 
stronger,  but  you  kind  of  talk  like  you  saw  ahead — 
do  you?" 

"Sure.  I  see  that  Nedda's  got  fried  onions  for 
dinner — and  wait  a  minute — Irish  stew — but  it's 
my  nose  telling  me  that.  Tony,  I  won't  lie  to  you." 

Tony  laughed,  then  glanced  ruefully  down  at  his 
stained  clothes. 

"I  look  a  sight!" 


The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  21 

Bill  nodded. 

"That's  right,  you  do.  Won't  it  give  her  a  scare 
though  to  see  you  cut  up  that  way !  I  tell  you  what, 
I'll  go  ahead  and  break  it  to  her  easy."  And  he 
plunged  up  the  stairs  of  the  little  frame  house,  three 
steps  at  a  time. 

Nedda  was  tiny  and  dark  and  colorful.  Long 
hours  of  stitching  garments  by  the  light  of  a  flicker- 
ing lamp  had  not  robbed  her  cheeks  of  their  red 
glow,  nor  her  eyes  of  their  deep,  warm  glint.  There 
are  some  eyes  blurred  like  a  misty  pane.  There  are 
others  in  which  a  thousand  lights  dance  and  sparkle 
and  leap.  Those  were  Nedda's — brown  pools. 

Her  mother  had  gasped  out  her  life  when  Nedda 
was  still  a  spindly  waif  and  Nedda  had  confidently 
assumed  charge  of  Tony.  She  had  slaved  for  him 
from  the  days  that  he  clung  to  her  hands  trying  to 
balance  himself  on  his  unruly  little  legs.  There  had 
been  nothing  else  in  her  life  until  Big  Bill  loomed. 

She  had  heard  Tony  speak  of  his  Boss.  The  boy 
had  kept  her  awake  when  her  heavy  lashes  drooped, 
telling  her  tales  of  Bill's  kindness,  of  his  strange 
power  over  the  men.  She  had  smothered  her  yawns 
and  listened  to  him  trying  to  respond  to  his  eager- 
ness— loving  this  big  man  who  seemed  in  his  quiet 
way  bent  on  helping  her  brother — loving  him  for 
Tony's  sake.  Then,  quite  suddenly,  she  loved  him 
for  his  own. 


22  The  Road  of  Ambition 

It  was  the  winter  that  Tony  came  down  with 
pneumonia.  You  cannot  forever  sweat  at  a  blaz- 
ing furnace  and  then  face  a  cutting  north  wind  with- 
out feeling  it,  and  Tony,  whimpering  like  a  child, 
crawled  home  one  night  with  a  pain  like  a  knife- 
stab  in  his  lungs.  But  greater  than  the  pain  was  the 
fear  that  he'd  lose  his  job.  Night  and  day  he  prayed 
and  begged  and  raved  for  his  place  in  Big  Bill's 
crew,  and  at  last,  because  it  was  the  only  thing  that 
would  save  his  life — she  snatched  up  her  shawl  and 
ran  through  the  chill  of  a  gray,  frosty  morning  to 
the  Works. 

She  halted  the  first  man  she  met  and  asked  him 
to  point  out  the  Boss,  and  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  see 
a  great  giant  leap  forward  and  hurl  back  a  man  be- 
fore a  flying  chip  of  burning  steel  crushed  out  his 
life. 

That  was  Big  Bill.  He  heard  her  stumbling  mes- 
sage and  smiled  at  her. 

"The  kid's  worrying  about  his  job,  is  he?"  he 
boomed.  "He  couldn't  lose  it  if  he  tried!  Tell  him 
that  for  me,  will  you  ?  He  couldn't  lose  it  if  he  tried  I 
not  while  I'm  boss  here!  I'll  run  over  myself  to- 
night to  gas  with  him,"  and  he  turned  back  to  his 
work. 

There  were  long  evenings  after  that  when  Tony, 
white  and  fretful,  propped  up  by  his  pillows,  waited 
only  for  the  heavy  tread  outside  his  door — evenings 
when  Nedda's  heart  pounded  in  her  throat  and  the 


The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  23 

quick  color  stung  her  cheeks.  Bill's  big  presence 
seemed  to  fill  the  little  room  with  a  warm  sense  of 
security.  Tony  was  not  to  worry,  he  thundered.  He 
was  to  get  well  if  it  took  all  winter !  and  the  talk  of 
the  Works  flew  back  and  forth  between  them,  with 
Nedda  forgotten,  but  hovering  close  to  hear  the 
music  of  Big  Bill's  voice  broken  by  the  deeper  rum- 
ble of  his  laugh. 

After  a  while  he  moved  there. 

"Guess  I'm  gettin'  too  used  to  your  cookin', 
Nedda.  Can't  seem  to  choke  down  food  nowhere 
else,"  he  had  said,  and  the  dream  that  lay  close  to 
her  heart  stirred  faintly  and  whispered  that  she 
might  hope. 

Tony  scraped  the  dirt  from  his  cheeks  and  fol- 
lowed Bill  slowly.  Nedda  turned  as  the  door  swung 
open,  and,  seeing  Bill,  cried  eagerly: 

"Hello !  Look  what  I  got  for  supper." 

Bill  nodded. 

"I  guessed  it  downstairs.    Smells  awful  good." 

Nedda's  glance  passed  him. 

"Where's  Tony?" 

"Coming,"  said  Billy  easily;  "but  he  sent  me  up 
ahead  to  tell  you  not  to  mind  his  black  eye.  He's 
been  tryin'  to  lick  the  Swede,  that's  all." 

"Fighting!  Tony?  Is  he  hurt?" 

"Not  much,"  laughed  Bill;  "but  the  Swede's  con- 
siderable banged  up." 


24  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Who,  the  Swede?     Oh,  I  reckon -" 

"No,  no— Tony ". 

"There,"  said  Bill,  waving  a  hand  toward  the 
door,  and  Nedda  ran  to  her  brother. 

"Why'd  you  do  It,  Tony?"  she  cried.  "Ain't  I 
nursed  you  through  everything  from  teethin'  to  ty- 
phoid without  your  startin'  a  scrap?" 

Tony  grinned  at  her. 

"I  dunno  what  Bill's  been  handin'  you,  but  take 
it  from  me,  if  it  wasn't  for  him  it  would  have  been 
'lights  out'  so  far  as  I'm  concerned." 

She  turned  swiftly,  her  hands  clasped. 

"You  didn't  tell  me,"  she  cried. 

Bill  shook  his  head. 

"Ain't  nothin'  to  tell  now,  besides  I'm  out  o'  talk. 
Got  a  kind  of  an  idea  hummin'  round  in  my  head  all 
of  a  sudden,  and  I  want  to  figure  it  out  soon  as  I 
get  filled  up." 

"Oh,  but  you  saved  him — "  she  began  eagerly, 
then  stopped.  "Come  on,  Tony,"  she  called.  "I'll 
fix  you  up  before  we  set  down." 

Soon  they  drew  up  their  chairs,  Tony  bubbling 
over  with  talk,  but  Bill,  silent,  pushed  back  his  plate. 

"Ain't  you  hungry?" 

He  shook  himself  together. 

"Sure  I  am.  Just  thinkin',  that's  all;  queer,  how 
a  little  idea  gets  stirrin'  around  and  won't  give  a 
feller  no  rest." 


f 
The  Workshop  of  Vulcan  25 

"What's  your  hunch  now?"  asked  Tony.  Bill 
shook  his  head. 

"It's  that  there  scale's  got  my  goat." 

"It  almost  got  mine,"  laughed  Tony.  Nedda 
raised  her  head. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Oh,  the  stuff  the  hammer  knocks  off  them  ingots. 
I  struck  a  piece  of  it  when  I  fell." 

"Here's  some,"  said  Bill,  passing  her  a  chip.  She 
turned  it  over. 

"What's  it  good  for?"  she  asked  slowly. 

"You've  got  us  there,  Nedda,"  grinned  Tony. 
"Ain't  worth  nothin'  much ;  used  in  makin'  glass,  ain't 
it,  Bill?" 

Bill  nodded. 

"Four  pounds  for  a  cent.  But  what  I  want  to 
know  is,  why  ain't  it  worth  more?" 

"Ask  me  somethin'  easy,"  jeered  Tony;  "like  why 
they  don't  build  battleships  with  slag.  The  answer's 
'cause  it's  junk." 

"But  it  ain't.  Here's  stuff  that  comes  off  of  steel 
and  yet  don't  seem  to  be  no  good.  There  had  ought 
to  be  some  process  to  make  that  stuff  valuable." 

"Well,  professor,  when  you  discover  it  ask  me 
out  in  your  auto;  meantime,  don't  waste  good  food 
frettin'  over  it.  Gee!  there's  no  tellin'  what  you'll 
think  of  next." 

Big  Bill  shook  his  head.  He  said  no  more,  but  he 
could  not  throw  off  the  spell  it  had  cast  upon  him. 


26  The  Road  of  Ambition 

No  small,  still  voice  whispered  in  his  ear  that  Fate 
is  a  capricious  dame  who  plays  strange  pranks  on 
her  unsuspecting  puppets.  He  could  not  know  that 
because  one  Tony  Dufrano  had  chanced  to  enrage  a 
sullen  Swede,  he,  Big  Bill,  was  at  last,  after  years 
of  unremitting  toil,  about  to  discover  the  Great  Proc- 
ess— the  Process  toward  which  he  had  bent  all  his 
energies — toward  which  his  soul  had  reached  and 
yearned.  Instead,  he  slipped  the  pieces  of  scale  into 
his  pocket  and  arose. 

"I'll  hike  along  now,"  he  said. 

Tony  yawned. 

Nedda  smiled  at  them  both. 

"You'll  wish  you'd  come  to  the  Mission  with  me 
when  I  tell  you  about  the  nice  music  they're  going 
to  have." 

Tony  laughed. 

"The  only  music  for  me  is  the  whistle  at  seven 
A.  M. — ain't  that  right,  Bill?" 

But  Bill  was  already  pounding  down  the  stairs. 

"Ain't  he  a  pippin,  though !"  sighed  Tony.  "Don't 
nothin'  ever  tire  him — don't  nothin'  ever  faze  him. 
He's  like  one  of  them  dinky  engines — a-puffing  along 
the  rails.  Don't  matter  how  big  his  load  is  or  how 
steep  the  grade,  he  makes  a  bee-line  for  wherever  he 
sets  out — and,  what's  more,  he  gets  there,  too !" 

Nedda  shook  her  head. 

"Wonder  if  I  put  too  much  salt  in  that  stew?"  she 
said,  slowly;  "he  ain't  never  passed  it  up  before." 


CHAPTER  II 

NEDDA  OF  THE  TENDER  HEART 

"DILL,  his  hand  on  the  knob  of  his  door,  paused 
•"^  at  the  sound  of  a  song  which  drifted  to  him 
from  across  the  hall : 

"Work,  for  the  night  is  coming, 
Work  through  the  morning  hours;" 

it  quavered.  Not  much  of  a  voice,  as  voices  go,  but 
Bill  smiled.  He  knew  whose  it  was.  He  knew  the 
little  gray  lady  with  the  heart  of  a  child,  who  fought 
her  grim  battle  with  life  alone.  "Miss  Ida  M'Far- 
lane,  Seamstress,"  read  the  card  on  her  door:  but  it 
failed  to  tell  of  her  skill  in  taking  up  the  threads  of 
a  frayed  life — of  drawing  them  together  with  infinite 
labor  and  pains — of  forming  them  into  a  pattern — 
a  drab,  homely  pattern,  but  one  of  rarest  beauty  just 
the  same. 

He  tiptoed  softly  toward  the  sound.  At  length 
he  rapped.  The  song  ended  abruptly.  A  sharp 
something  clattered  to  the  floor;  there  came  the 
quick  patter  of  footsteps  and  the  door  flew  open. 

"Oh !"  breathed  the  little  old  lady,  who  peered  up 
27 


28  The  Road  of  Ambition 

at  him  through  her  thick  glasses;  "oh — it's  Bill!" 

"Sure  it  is,"  he  laughed,  "was  you  expectin'  Mis- 
ter Caruso  to  join  you  in  a  duet?" 

"Did  you  hear  me  1"  she  gasped,  her  cheeks  pink. 
"I  didn't  mean  to  sing  so  loud — I " 

"You  bet  I  heard  you,"  nodded  Bill;  "stayed  out- 
side listenin'.  I  tell  you  it  sounded  mighty  good  to 
me — that  song." 

"Did  it?"  she  asked  eagerly.  "I  don't  know  why 
I  sang  it  to-night,  except  that,  that  I  had  so  much  to 
do  I  thought  maybe  it  might  help." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Got  so  much  to  do,  eh?  Well,  look  here,  Mis' 
M'Farlane,  I  ain't  goin'  to  have  you  mendin'  any 
more  of  my  socks  an'  usein'  up  your  eyes  on  them, 
let  me  tell  you !" 

"Ohl"  she  cried,  with  a  quick  catch  in  her  breath'1 
"oh,  but  Hike  to  !" 

Still  he  scowled. 

"Well,  don't  you  hurry  none  with  them.  It  don't 
make  no  difference  how  long  you  take,  understand?" 

"Pretty  soon  I'll  be  able  to  have  a  sewing  ma- 
chine and  then  the  work  will  fly,"  she  said,  cheerily. 

"Ain't  you  been  going'  to  have  a  machine  for  near 
on  to  ten  years?"  he  asked.  She  patted  down  her 
black  apron  before  answering. 

"I'll  get  one  some  day,"  she  said  at  length. 

"You  sure  will,"  he  growled,  "if  I  have  to  buy 
one  myself!" 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        29 

She  laughed,  but  her  eyes  were  tender. 

"Won't  you — won't  you  come  in?"  she  asked. 

"Can't  do  it.  Got  to  work  to-night  same  as  you. 
Just  wanted  to  tell  you  to  keep  up  that  song — sounds 
all  right  to  me." 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  she  asked,  tremulously.  "Do 
you  really  mean  it?" 

"Sure,"  he  nodded;  "turn  on  the  music — it'll  help 
me  think." 

And  he  left  her  framed  in  her  doorway — a  little 
gray  silhouette,  with  eyes  like  burned  out  coals.  She 
watched  his  door  close  behind  him.  Still  she  did 
not  move.  She  waited  until  she  heard  him  strike  a 
match,  until  a  thin  ray  of  light  crept  out  from  be- 
neath his  door,  then  she  re-entered  her  room.  With 
eager  hands  she  dragged  her  rocker  closer  to  the 
hallway,  and  drew  the  work  table,  with  its  lamp,  be- 
side her.  Then  she  picked  up  the  filmy  net,  on  which 
she  had  been  working,  all  traces  of  weariness  van- 
ishing as  if  by  magic.  All  at  once  she  paused, 
dropped  the  work,  as  the  light  of  determination 
sprang  to  her  eyes.  She  thrust  its  clinging  daintiness 
away  from  her  as  though  its  beauty  cloyed.  She 
fumbled  in  a  workbag  beside  her  and  drew  out  a 
pair  of  worsted  socks — socks  with  jagged  holes  in 
heel  and  toe.  She  slipped  one  of  them  over  her  hand 
— slowly — caressingly — then  with  a  gesture  of  defi- 
ance she  flung  back  her  head. 

"Work,   for  the  night  is  coming!"     Her  voice 


30  The  Road  of  Ambition 

rang  loud  with  a  new,  exultant  note  as  her  needle 
flew  in  and  out — "Work  through  the  morning 
hours!" 

Bill,  sunk  deep  in  his  chair,  smiled  as  he  heard. 
She  was  right — the  little  gray  lady — "Work" — that 
was  the  keynote  of  life  and  success!  He  had  never 
been  afraid  of  it.  He  had  answered  to  its  spur 
like  a  thoroughbred.  He  had  taken  the  road  at  a 
fast  clip.  He  had  never  slowed  down  his  gait. 

He  tried  to  remember  just  when  he  had  first  come 
to  believe  he  would  accomplish  things — would  some 
day  climb  out  of  the  pit  into  the  sunlight  and  to  re- 
gard his  crushing  hours  of  work  as  a  means  to  an 
end.  It  was  his  enormous  strength  that  gave  him 
the  first  warm  glow  of  confidence.  Men  shrank 
from  his  warmth  and  fawned  for  his  favor,  and  as 
he  saw  them  with  compassion,  a  stoop-shouldered 
army  of  toilers,  it  was  borne  in  upon  him  that  he  was 
of  different  calibre.  He  could  pass  them  in  the  race 
if  he  tried. 

He  had  set  the  coveted  foremanship  as  the  pin- 
nacle of  his  desire.  He  had  fought  every  inch  of 
the  way  toward  it — sweated  blood.  He  had  thrust 
men  aside  and  won  the  promotion  through  sheer  dint 
of  his  own  untiring  labor.  And  when  the  great  day 
arrived,  the  day  on  which  the  crew  looked  to  him  for 
orders,  he  had  found  with  dismay  that  the  thrill  was 
gone,  that  he  was  already  reaching  out  for  some- 
thing new,  something  bigger. 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        31 

"Power,  Power,  more  Power !"  shrieked  the  voice 
of  the  Works,  and  the  answering  chord  in  his  soul 
echoed  it.  He  raised  his  face  grimly  toward  the 
Heights.  Man  had  scaled  them  before.  Why  not  he ! 

Nedda  returning  later  from  the  Mission,  plunged 
through  a  cold  drizzle,  head  bent  against  the  storm. 
She  was  glad  to  reach  home;  to  pull  off  her  damp 
coat  and  hurry  up  the  stairs. 

On  the  second  landing  a  lamp,  dying  fast,  flick- 
ered desperately  in  a  last  frantic  effort  to  live,  then 
went  out.  It  was  late.  The  corridor  plunged  into 
blackness,  but  beneath  Big  Bill's  door  shone  forth 
a  yellow  ray  of  light.  Nedda,  shivering,  hesitated, 
then  knocked  softly.  There  was  no  answer.  At 
length  she  turned  the  handle. 

Bill,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  sat  hunched  at  his  table. 
Through  the  open  window  behind  him  a  chilly  rain 
poured.  Like  one  in  a  trance  he  bent  above  the 
pieces  of  scale  spread  out  before  him.  Nedda,  with 
a  cry,  sprang  forward. 

"I  just  might  'a'  guessed  you'd  sit  there  and 
freeze!"  she  chided  as  she  snapped  down  the  win- 
dow. Still  Bill  did  not  look  up ;  instead,  he  turned 
the  chips  over  and  over. 

"You're  most  chilled  through !"  said  Nedda,  gent- 
ly; "ain't  men  got  no  sense  at  all!" 

She  bent  over  him  and  as  he  felt  her  warm  pres- 
ence behind  him  he  turned  with  a  start. 


32  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Nedda!"  he  cried,  "what  you  doin'  here?" 

She  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  expected  you'd  be  wet  through  without 
knowing  it  if  you  had  one  of  your  spells  on." 

He  caught  her  hands. 

"I  think  I've  got  it  this  time,"  he  cried;  "I  think 
I've  got  it!" 

"I  know  what  you'll  get  if  you  don't  think  of  your- 
self none,  and  it'll  be  the  pneumonia  same  as  Tony 
had — that's  what  you'll  get!" 

But  he  shook  his  head  impatiently  as  though  her 
voice  were  an  unintelligible  sound  which  did  not 
penetrate  his  absorption. 

"You  see,"  he  whispered,  "it's  a  matter  of  heat 
— that's  all — a  matter  of  heat.  The  fusing  point'll 
be  higher  than  for  regular  steel,  of  course;  now  if 
I  can  find  an  alloy " 

But  Nedda  drew  her  hand  away  gently. 

"Yes,  I'm  listenin',"  she  said,  moving  cautiously 
toward  the  cot  in  the  corner;  "go  on,  Bill,  I'm  lis- 
tenin'," and  she  whipped  off  the  faded  quilt,  and, 
moving  behind  him,  wrapped  it  about  his  shoulders. 
But  Bill  shook  his  head. 

"You  wouldn't  understand — not  yet.  Wait  until 
after  I've  tested  it,  then  I'll  tell  you,  but  not  now, 
not  now " 

Nedda  smiled. 

"You'd  better  turn  in,  Bill,"  she  said  softly;  "you 
can't  do  no  work  to-morrow  if  you're  all  in." 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        33 

He  did  not  reply.  Instead  he  drew  the  quilt  closer 
about  him  and  bent  over  the  chips.  Nedda  moved 
to  the  door. 

"Good  night,  Bill,"  she  called. 

She  waited  for  his  reply,  but  none  came.  She 
smiled.  "I  don't  believe  you  even  know  I've  been 
here,"  she  said,  softly,  "blest  if  I  do !"  and  she  closed 
the  door  gently  behind  her. 

Big  Bill  lived  with  his  theory.  It  was  beside  him 
day  and  night.  It  gave  him  no  rest.  There  were 
days  when  he  did  not  eat,  nights  when  he  did  not 
sleep.  At  times  he  threw  himself  down  exhausted, 
only  to  be  seized  with  the  idea  of  a  process  yet  un- 
tried. He  would  drag  his  weary  body  to  the  Works, 
where  the  men,  toiling  carelessly  before  the  red  fur- 
naces, seemed  to  him  a  disordered  fancy  of  his  brain. 
They  stared  at  him. 

"Ain't  you  got  enough  to  do,  Bill,  without  stayin' 
up  all  night?"  they'd  call,  half-curious.  But  he  did 
not  heed  them.  With  that  grim  oneness  of  purpose 
which,  from  the  start,  had  distinguished  him  from 
the  others,  he  would  set  to  work  testing  his  latest 
theory  before  the  gigantic  heat  that  shriveled  men 
and  drove  them  back  gasping.  He  would  wait 
breathless  for  a  result,  unconscious  of  the  fire — 
watching  that  Thing  which  must  be  Steel  because  it 
came  from  Steel,  and  yet  for  some  baffling  reason 
Was  Not — watching  it  with  a  fierce,  jealous  intensity 
that  brooked  no  interference. 


34  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"You'll  blow  up  the  Works  one  of  these  days," 
the  men  cautioned  him;  "you  don't  know  what  you're 
handling  half  the  time " 

That  was  it.  He  didn't.  Again  and  again  he 
cursed  the  environment  in  which  he  had  been  born, 
the  environment  whose  denizens  counted  education 
as  an  unnecesary  evil;  who  thrust  their  sons  at  the 
helm  without  giving  them  a  chart  or  compass — ship- 
wrecks, of  course;  why  not?  You  can't  bring  a 
boat  through  strange  waters  without  a  guide,  so  why 
a  man? 

Education,  education.  .  .  As  he  sweated  and 
gasped  and  struggled  before  the  searing  fires  night 
after  night  he  whispered  fiercely  to  himself,  through 
clenched  teeth,  what  he  might  have  accomplished  had 
he  known  the  rudiments  of  chemistry — of  physics — 
had  he  but  had  the  access  to  the  great  company  lab- 
oratories instead  of  sneaking  back  to  the  Works 
after  hours  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  But  he'd  find  it; 
he'd  find  that  process  if  it  took  the  rest  of  his  life ! 
Haggard  and  white  and  dulled  he  would  at  length 
stumble  home,  the  will  o'  the  wisp  which  he  pursued 
as  gayly  elusive  as  ever. 

Benson,  chief  superintendent  of  the  great  plant, 
noticed  him  one  night  as  he  went  the  rounds. 

"Isn't  that  Big  Bill?"  he  asked.  The  men  an- 
swered him  uneasily.  They  were  afraid  for  Bill — 
they  even  whispered  among  themselves  their  suspi- 
cions— he  was  cracked,  poor  old  bloke — came  back 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        35 

every  night  and  worked  like  a  trooper — too  bad; 
he'd  croak  himself  soon.  To  Benson's  questions 
they  replied  in  monosyllables.  "Yes,  sir,  that  were 
Bill."  Benson  sensed  from  their  manner  that  some- 
thing was  amiss. 

"What's  he  doing  there  at  that  furnace?"  he 
questioned. 

The  men  shrugged.  They  did  not  know.  They 
wished  they  could  warn  Bill,  but  dared  not.  Benson 
was  even  then  threading  his  way  toward  him. 

"Evening,  Bill,"  he  said. 

The  big  man,  dragging  a  ladle  from  the  flame,  did 
not  reply.  Some  one  touched  his  arm. 

"It's  the  Chief,"  was  whispered  in  his  ear. 

Bill  turned  and  rubbed  an  arm  across  his  eyes, 
Benson,  moving  back  from  the  sweep  of  heat,  cried 
out  sharply: 

"What  are  you  doing?  Do  you  want  to  be  burned 
alive?" 

Bill  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  all  right,  sir,"  he  answered  brusquely  and 
turned  back,  but  Benson  took  his  arm. 

"Better  come  over  here  and  talk  a  bit." 

Bill  shook  off  his  hand. 

"Can't.  Can't  stop  watching  it  a  minute — don't 
you  see  it's  the  watchin'  that's  goin'  to  prove  it  to 
me." 

Benson  turned  to  one  of  the  men  standing  by,  mute, 
terrified. 


36  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"What's  he  talking  about?"  he  demanded  shortly. 

Severance,  foreman  of  the  basic  furnace,  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"It's  a  process  he's  trying  to  prove,  sir.  Nobody 
don't  know  what  it  is.  He  works  at  his  job  all  day 
and  comes  back  here  at  night  to  try  it  out." 

"How  long  has  this  been  going  on?"  he  asked. 

Severance  hesitated. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  he  said  at  last. 

"Well,  tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  at  my  office  in 
the  morning,  will  you?" 

Severance  nodded.     "I'll  tell  him,  sir"  he  said. 

Bill,  heavy-eyed,  roused  himself  with  an  effort. 
His  muscles  ached.  His  back  ached.  His  hands 
were  blistered.  His  face  stung  and  burned.  He 
turned  over  and  tried  to  slip  back  into  the  realm  of 
dreams — but  he  could  not.  Something  tore  down 
the  walls  of  sleep — pounded  relentlessly  at  his  con- 
sciousness— something  he  had  to  do — some  one  he 
had  to  see.  "To  blazes  with  everybody!"  he  whis- 
pered through  cracked  lips  to  his  pillow.  He  would 
not  move  for  the  best  of  them!  Not  for  old  Ben- 
son himself! 

That  was  it!  He  sat  up  with  a  jerk  and  winced 
at  the  pain  in  his  neck  and  shoulders — he,  who  had 
laughed  at  pain ;  but  he  was  awake  now,  blinking  at 
the  gray  sky  which  merged  into  giant  smokestacks 
and  the  roofs  of  furnaces  as  he  sat  up  higher. 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        37 

Benson  I  He  was  to  see  Benson !  Who  Kad  told 
him?  Why  did  Benson  want  to  see  him?  He  tried 
to  remember — to  still  the  pounding  in  his  head — the 
roaring  in  his  ears.  What  was  it?  Then  he 
remembered.  It  was  Severance. 

He  must  have  dreamed  it.  What  could  the  super- 
intendent want  with  him  unless — he  drew  a  long 
breath — unless  he  meant  to  fire  him !  That  was  it ! 
They  had  caught  him  at  the  furnace  last  night.  He 
fought  back  the  haze  which  was  slipping  over  him 
again.  Some  one  had  spoken  to  him — could  it  have 
been  the  Chief  himself!  If  that  was  what  Benson 
wanted,  just  as  he  was  winning  out,  just  as  the  first 
glorious  test  had  succeeded,  as  the  theory  proved  it- 
self. Well — you  didn't  get  another  job  easily, 
either ;  no  chance  to  be  foreman,  no  chance  to  work 
at  the  furnaces  at  nights — no  chance  of  anything. 
All  wasted;  every  hour  that  his  body  had  cried  aloud 
for  sleep — wasted — wasted. 

A  sob  tore  his  throat.  He'd  show  them  they 
couldn't  discharge  a  man  who  was  on  the  job  from 
seven  to  seven!  He'd  like  to  see  Benson  or  any 
other  man  fire  him !  He  dragged  on  his  clothes  with 
trembling  hands  and  pulled  his  cap  over  his  eyes. 
He  wasn't  afraid  of  Benson. 

But  when  he  tried  to  walk  across  the  room  the 
floor  rocked  treacherously  and  the  door  seemed  a 
thousand  miles  away.  Nonsense,  that,  just  nerves — 
that  was  all.  He  wasn't  afraid  of  Benson,  he  whis- 


38  The  Road  of  Ambition 

pered  through  white  lips   as  he  lurched   forward. 

Some  one  met  him  in  the  hall.  He  knew  it  was 
Nedda,  and  yet  it  did  not  look  like  her;  it  was  an 
image  indistinct  and  blurred,  only  the  eyes  black — 
and  round  with  fear — held  him. 

"Hello,  Nedda,"  he  tried  to  say.     "Hello." 

He  felt  her  catch  his  arm,  and  it  steadied  him  a 
trifle.  Things  settled  down  a  bit.  She  was  talking, 
but  he  did  not  hear  all  she  said.  He  caught  a  word 
here  and  there. 

"Bill Oh,  Bill !  No  breakfast — you  must — 

you  must!" 

That  was  £Ke  worst  of  Nedda.  She  was  so  used 
to  ordering  around  that  half-sick  brother  of  hers 
that  she  tried  it  on  every  one.  Blamed  if  he  would 
have  her  telling  him  he  must !  He  tore  his  arm  loose. 

"Nothin'  doin',"  he  growled ;  "get  out  of  my  way," 
and  he  shoved  her  aside.  He  was  glad  he  had  left 
her  behind,  and  yet  he  had  an  indistinct  impression 
that  she  was  following  him,  calling  him.  He  turned 
once  and  saw  her  dark  eyes,  but  he  laughed  to  him- 
self. She'd  not  boss  him! 

He  staggered  up  the  steps  of  the  superintendent's 
house  and  kept  his  finger  on  the  bell.  A  startled 
maid  opened  the  door  and  fell  back  at  the  man's  ap- 
pearance. 

"Mr.  Benson,"  he  said,  thickly;  "Mr.  Benson's 
expectin'  me?" 

She  fled,  and  he  dropped  in  a  chair  and  waited, 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        39 

his  head  in  his  hands.  From  far  off  came  the  peal 
of  a  bell  again.  He  heard  hurried  voices  and  one, 
not  unlike  Nedda's,  pleading  and  sobbing.  What 
was  it  she  was  saying? 

"No  sleep — not  for  nights  and  nights — working 
all  the  time  on  the  process — hasn't  eaten — not  a 
mouthful " 

He  felt  his  head  jerked  back  suddenly  and  the 
burning  sting  of  brandy  smote  his  throat  It  cleared 
his  head.  He  sat  up. 

"Where  am  I?"  he  said,  then  tried  to  scramble 
to  his  feet. 

"Sit  tight,"  said  a  voice.  It  was  Benson's — Ben- 
son's big  warm  voice.  "You're  all  right,  Bill — a 
trifle  shaky." 

He  stared  about  him.  He  was  in  the  great  wains- 
coated,  tapestried  library  of  a  mansion — embers  of 
last  night's  fire  glowed  like  red  eyes  in  the  hearth. 
He  turned  his  head  slowly.  Beside  him  stood 
Nedda,  her  face  white  and  drawn.  Near  her,  Ben- 
son and  his  wife.  They  were  not  dressed — that  was 
queer.  He  shook  his  head. 

"I  must  a  made  an  awful  fool  of  myself,  sir — 
I  must " 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Benson,  kindly.  "You're  just 
played  out.  Don't  try  to  talk.  Just  wait  a  bit." 

But  Bill  shook  his  head. 

"I  remember  comin'.  Yes,  you'd  sent  for  me, 
that  was  it — and  I  was  afraid — I  was  afraid " 


4-O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Then  his  voice  broke.     Benson  patted  his  shoulder. 

"Of  course,  I  sent  for  you.  Heard  you'd  been 
working  on  a  process  to  turn  scale  back  into  steel. 
Wanted  to  hear  all  about  it.  Always  interested  in 
our  men's  discoveries." 

Bill  stared  at  him,  fighting  off  the  approaching 
blackness. 

"An'  you  wasn't  goin'  to  fire  me?" 

"Fire  you!"  laughed  Benson;  "of  course  not. 
You're  the  best  man  we  have  in  the  Works." 

Bill  held  out  his  hand. 

"You're  all  right,"  he  whispered,  huskily,  "an'  I 
don't  mind  tellin'  you  that  my  process  is  A  No.  i — 
I've  proved  it — I " 

"Hold  on,"  said  Benson,  "you  can  tell  me  all  about 
it  when  you've  had  a  square  sleep.  Lie  down  here 
on  this  couch  and  don't  think  about  waking  up  until 
to-morrow,  at  least." 

Bill  spoke  with  difficulty. 

"I  hadn't  ought  to  be  here,"  he  muttered,  "I 

hadn't  ought  to  do  this — I "  but  his  head  fell 

forward  on  his  chest  and  Benson  caught  him.  Nedda 
sprang  to  his  side. 

"Is  he  dead?"  she  whispered. 

Benson  shook  his  head. 

"Nothing  wrong  with  him,  but  he's  dog  tired. 
He'll  come  around  all  right.  Don't  worry." 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  asked. 

He  nodded. 


Nedda  of  the  Tender  Heart        41 

"Seen  them  that  way  many  a  time.  Don't  worry. 
He  deserves  a  rest,  and  he'll  get  it  right  here  and 
now." 

Nedda  rose.  "Oh,  thanks,"  she  whispered; 
"thanks." 


CHAPTER  III 

A  DREAM  OF  GREAT  RICHES 

T  ATE  that  afternoon  Big  Bill  opened  his  eyes, 
•^  and  after  his  first  startled  glance,  settled  back 
to  a  luxurious  survey  of  his  surroundings.  He  was 
all  alone  in  the  great  lamp-lit  library  of  the  mansion ! 
He — Big  Bill — stretched  out  like  a  king  on  a  divan 
of  intoxicating  softness.  Slowly  his  eyes  traveled 
to  the  warm  red  splotches  of  light  cast  by  the  lamps 
on  the  rugs,  and  from  thence  to  the  walls,  studded 
with  books,  books  of  all  sizes  and  shapes;  shadowy 
volumes  which  breathed  prosperity — prosperity!  He 
drew  a  sharp  breath.  He'd  have  them  some  day, 
too,  rows  of  them  like  that  reaching  from  floor  to 
ceiling.  You  didn't  need  to  read  them,  not  much, 
just  to  own  them  gave  you  class. 

His  head,  though  clear,  felt  a  trifle  light,  and  he 
dropped  back  on  his  pillows.  Some  one  stirred  be- 
hind him.  It  was  a  butler  in  livery. 

"Beggin*  pardon,  sir,  but  Mr.  Benson  said  as  how 
you  were  to  have  some  refreshment." 

Bill  stared  at  him. 

"Hello,  pard,"  he  grinned.  "Grub,  did  you  say? 
I  could  bolt  hardtack  and  take  it  for  ice  cream!" 
42 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          43 

He  ate  from  a  dainty  tray  wheeled  in  to  him.  He 
was  glad  the  butler  had  left  him  alone.  It  is  one 
thing  to  juggle  a  knife  at  home  and  quite  another  to 
handle  it  in  the  Chief's  house.  The  coffee  set  him  up 
and  he  flung  himself  to  his  feet  pacing.  That  was 
what  money  could  do  for  a  man  !  Books  and  couches 
and  food,  concrete  luxuries ;  rugs  that  felt  like  moss 
beneath  your  feet,  lamps  that  cast  a  warm,  rosy  glow; 
pictures.  Money — money!  if  you  could  only  get 
your  two  hands  on  it  there  was  nothing  you  couldn't 
have! 

He  drew  near  the  shelves.  He  studied  the  titles 
and  spelled  them  out  with  difficulty:  "Plutarch's 
Lives,"  "The  Fall  of  Rome,"  and  he  reached  up  and 
stroked  the  satiny  covers  gingerly.  No,  you  didn't 
need  to  read  them,  but  a  gentleman  had  to  have  them 
on  his  shelves.  No  doubt  about  that.  He  turned. 
Some  one  was  behind  him.  It  was  Benson. 

"Well,  Bill,"  he  said,  quietly,  "you  look  ready  for 
business." 

Bill  flushed.  What  would  the  Chief  think  of  his 
fingering  the  books. 

"I  was  just  feelin'  them.  Ain't  they  soft,  though?" 

Benson  smiled.  "Yes,  nice  edition — but  pretty 
well  thumbed,  I'm  afraid." 

"You  mean,"  said  Bill,  slowly,  "you  mean  that 
you've  read  them?" 

Benson  laughed.     "Of  course." 

Bill  stared  at  him.     That,  then,  was  the  cause  of 


44  The  Road  of  Ambition 

the  intangible  something  which  gave  men  of  means 
such  quiet  assurance — there  it  was  again — education. 

"I  didn't  just  think  you  did." 

Benson  pushed  forward  a  chair.  "Sit  down,"  he 
said. 

Bill  seated  himself  uncomfortably  on  the  edge  of 
it  and  waited. 

"I  suppose  you  think  it's  a  bit  unusual — my  hav- 
ing you  here." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  reckon  it  is." 

"Fact  is,  Bill,  I'm  interested  in  this  discovery  of 
yours — very  much  interested." 

Bill  looked  up  quickly. 

"More  so  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  men  up  at 
the  lab  have  been  plugging  away  for  the  last  year 
trying  to  find  just  what  you  say  you  have  succeeded 
in  unearthing." 

"You  don't  mean  that  them  experts  couldn't  line 
it  up?" 

"That's  just  what  I  mean,  so  that's  why  I  wanted 
to  hear  all  about  it,  to  have  it  tested,  to  put  it  up  to 
the  board." 

Bill  shifted. 

"You  must  a  thought  I  was  clean  off  my  base  last 
night,"  he  said;  "but  when  I  seen  it  comin'  tERngs 
went  red — I  couldn't  think  of  nothin'  else." 

Benson  nodded.  "I  knew  that.  A  man  doesn't 
work  overtime  night  after  night  unless  he  believes  he 
has  struck  something.  I  liked  your  grit,  Bill;  you 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          45 

struck  me  as  precisely  the  sort  of  man  who  would  suc- 
ceed at  whatever  he  undertook." 

Bill  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair. 

"And — and  if  this  proves  out — what'll  it  mean, 
sir?" 

Benson  did  not  answer  for  several  minutes.  He 
stared  at  the  ceiling,  and  at  length  spoke. 

"I  don't  want  to  raise  your  hopes,  Bill,  as  it  may 
mean  nothing.  But  should  it  prove — should  it 
prove,  mind  you — it  looks  to  me  as  though  you  might 
become  a  very  rich  man." 

Bill  threw  back  his  head. 

"Me,  rich!"  he  roared. 

Benson  nodded.  "Other  men  have  made  their 
fortunes  through  discoveries  of  this  kind — most  of 
them  have  worked  in  the  drafting  rooms  or  labs, 
but  now  and  then  a  laborer  puts  one  over." 

Still  Bill  was  unconvinced. 

"You  don't  mean  rich  like  you  are,  Chief — you 
mean  I  can  own  my  own  place  on  Factory  Street, 
maybe,  and  buy  some  lots." 

"I  mean  more  than  that.  There  may  not  be  a 
penny  in  it,  and  there  may  be  a  million." 

Bill  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"A  million!"  he  shouted.     "A  million!" 

"Exactly,"  said  Benson.  "That  is  a  conservative 
estimate.  Don't  count  on  it,  though.  Knock  off 
work  to-day,  and  to-morrow's  Sunday;  so  you'll  be 
in  fine  shape  by  Monday,  and  we  can  take  the 


46  The  Road  of  Ambition 

matter  up.  Remember,  you've  got  a  big  job  as 
foreman,  and  if  this  doesn't  pan  out  you  won't  be 
the  first  one  to  lose  a  bet." 

"A  million !"  whispered  Bill.  "There  ain't  nothin' 
I  couldn't  have." 

Big  Bill  found  Nedda  awaiting  him  at  the  gates 
of  the  mansion.  Her  face  was  pinched  and  white, 
and  she  rubbed  her  hands  together — rather  as  though 
she  were  chilled  through.  He  ran  to  meet  her. 

"What  is  it,  Bill?"  she  cried.  She  could  tell  from 
his  stride — from  the  way  in  which  he  flung  back  his 
shoulders  that  something  had  occurred — something 
tremendous. 

"Nedda!"  he  shouted,  "I'm  goin'  to  be  rich- 
do  you  hear,  Nedda?  I'm  goin'  to  be  rich!" 

She  blew  on  her  fingers  and  stared  at  him. 

"Bill,"  she  said  at  length,  "you  feel  all  right,  don't 
you?" 

He  laughed.  "All  right  ain't  no  word  for  itl 
Tip-top !  Rich.  Old  man  Benson  himself  said  so " 

"Benson!"  she  gasped.     "Benson!" 

"Sure.  Puttin'  it  up  to  the  Board.  Kind  o'  scared 
I  ain't  got  the  goods — tryin'  to  let  me  down  easy — 
but  I  know  I've  got  'em,  Nedda  I  I  know  I've  got 
'em!" 

"You  mean,"  she  whispered,  trying  to  follow  him; 
"that  he  thinks  you're  goin'  to  make  a  pile  out  of  your 
process?" 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          47 

He  nodded.  "Bet  you  half  a  buck  old  Benson  'li 
be  around  with  the  news  any  day!" 

"But,  Bill,"  she  breathed,  "Bill,  what  are  you  goin' 
to  do  with  it?" 

He  stopped  and  stared  at  her  as  though  she  had 
rudely  jerked  him  to  earth  after  a  golden  flight 
among  the  clouds. 

"Do?  Do?  Why,  everything!"  Then,  as  his  imag- 
ination soared:  "There's  nothin'  I  can't  do!  I'll 
buy — I'll  buy — why,  I'll  buy  you  anythin'  you  want." 

"You'll  buy  me  anythin'  I  want?"  she  whispered. 

He  nodded.  "Yep,  you  and  Tony  and  anybody 
else  that's  given  me  a  hand." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "I  thought " 

Suddenly  he  stared  down  at  her.  He  seemed  to 
see  her  for  the  first  time. 

"You're  cold,  ain't  you — say,  Nedda,  what  are 
you  doin'  here,  anyway?  Your  place  ain't  closed 
yet." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,  not  yet." 

"Well,  how'd  you  come  to  be  here — outside?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 

"I  was  scared,  Bill." 

"Scared?    What  of  ?" 

"Scared  you  might — might — need  me.  You  was 
awful  queer  this  morning." 

"Yes;  but — why,  Nedda,  you  ain't  been  hangin' 
'round  here  all  day  on  account  of  me !" 


48  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  nodded. 

"I  was  afraid  you  might  need  me,"  she  repeated, 
slowly. 

He  took  her  hand  and  patted  it. 

"Why'd  you  do  it?"  he  asked;  then,  without  wait- 
ing for  her  reply,  he  drew  her  along. 

"You  won't  be  sorry  you  did.  Leave  it  to  me. 
I'll  get  you  the  swellest  ring  or  pin  or  whatever  you 
want  just  as  soon  as  them  directors  come  across  with 
the  coin."  He  was  seized  with  a  sudden  idea  :  "Let's 
you  and  me  go  to  Levenstein's  and  see  what  they 
got.  What  do  you  say?" 

She  went  with  him,  keeping  up  to  his  big  swinging 
stride  with  difficulty.  He  glanced  down  at  her. 

"And  a  warm  coat,  too,  Nedda — and  shoes  what 
are  shoes — Gee !  to  think  of  your  standin'  out 
there  all  day  for  a  big  stiff  like  me !" 

"I  didn't  mind,"  she  said,  slowly;  "I  wanted  to." 

Levenstein's  window  flashing  a  hundred  lights, 
shone  out  brilliantly  against  the  gathering  dusk. 
Factory  Street,  its  stores  yet  unlighted,  formed  a  dim 
background.  It  was,  perhaps,  Levenstein's  greatest 
moment — a  moment  begotten  of  his  shrewdness — 
this  glare  of  colored  bulbs  shining  boldly,  wantonly, 
coaxing  one  to  gaze  at  the  glittering  array  of  pre- 
cious and  semi-precious  stones  he  displayed. 

He  had  arranged  his  window  with  great  cunning 
— Gorgeous  Diamond  Ring — Special  Price — Step 
Inside  and  Try  It  On  Your  Hand;  or,  Something 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          49 

Extra  Fine  in  Scarf  pins — How  Would  You  Like  to 
See  This  Diamond  in  Your  Necktie? 

Each  night  could  be  found  the  moths  drawn  to 
the  flame,  pushing  and  shoving  good-naturedly  for 
a  view  of  the  coveted  jewels. 

As  Bill  drew  near  he  turned  to  Nedda  with  a 
grin. 

"You  can  have  it  all,"  he  said.  Nedda  smiled,  her 
cheeks  flushed.  "Come  on,"  urged  Bill,  eagerly; 
"let's  look  'em  over." 

She  entered  into  his  gaiety  with  an  effort. 

"Ain't  it  late?"  she  protested,  as  he  seized  her 
arm. 

"Late,  nothin'.  You're  shoppin'  now  with  Bill 
what's  got  a  pile.  Nothin's  too  good  for  you, 
Nedda,  what'llitbe?" 

She  stared  down  at  the  dazzling  display,  but  did 
not  reply. 

"Come  on,"  he  urged,  "quick!" 

She  straightened  up. 

"All  right,  then,  Bill;  would  that  bracelet  there 
be  too  much?" 

He  scoffed  at  her. 

"Too  much!  Ain't  I  told  you  I'm  rich — no; 
you're  goin'  to  have  that  beauty  down  in  front." 

Nedda  drew  her  breath  sharply.  Twinkling  up 
at  her  from  its  bed  of  purple  velvet  lay  a  brooch  of 
diamonds — Levenstein's  piece  de  resistance — a  rare 
piece  for  so  garish  a  window,  but  one  which  Lev- 


50  The  Road  of  Ambition 

enstein  knew  would  draw  the  crowd.  It  was  his 
bait.  Once  they  feasted  their  eyes  upon  it  they 
would  let  their  gaze  drift  to  the  least  costly  articles. 
He  never  expected  to  sell  it,  but  it  served  its  pur- 
pose. 

"Oh,  not  that!"  gasped  Nedda,  as  though  she 
feared  Bill,  in  his  new  madness,  would  charge  the 
store  and  purchase  it  then  and  there.  "Not  that!" 

"Sure!"  he  cried,  delighted.     "Just  the  thing!" 

In  an  instant  he  was  tired  of  this  game  and  ready 
for  something  new.  He  turned  away.  "Look  over 
there  at  the  Bee  Hive — they're  lighting  up. 
Dresses — let's  see  what  kind  you  want." 

Nedda  followed  him,  tolerant  of  his  bubbling  en- 
thusiasm— humoring  him  tenderly. 

"Pipe  the  red  one !"  he  cried.  "You'd  look  great 
in  that!" 

She  shook  her  head.     "Not  much,  I  wouldn't." 

But  he  nodded.  "I'd  like  to  see  you  in  it.  It's 
just  the  color  of  the  steel  at  the  big  heat — red  as 
blazes — swell  color,  that!" 

But  the  mood  passed  and  he  caught  her  arm. 

"Come  on,  let's  hurry  home  and  tell  Tony — he 
ain't  heard  it  yet — nor  Mis'  M'Farlane.  Nedda, 
you  think  I'm  crazy,  but  just  you  wait." 

Tony  listened  with  shrieks  of  excitement — with  a 
torrent  of  eager  questions,  but  Nedda  left  them 
shortly  after  supper  and  ran  downstairs.  It  was  cold 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          51 

out  The  wind  whipped  a  sharp  color  to  her  cheeks 
and  tore  at  her  skirts.  She  hurried  to  the  little  dry 
goods  store  on  the  corner  of  Factory  Street. 

"I'm  goin'  to  make  a  dress,"  she  said  breathless- 
ly to  Annie,  who  waited  on  all  customers;  "a  red 
one." 

Annie  measured  out  the  lengths  of  glowing  cloth 
without  comment. 

When  Nedda  reached  home  Bill  had  gone,  but 
Tony,  his  eyes  still  shining^  hugged  his  knees  de- 
lightedly. 

"Ain't  it  immense?'  he  cried;  "Bill  puttin'  one 
over  on  the  big  guys — he's  goin'  to  be  rich,  Nedda." 

"Well,  he  ain't  yet,"  she  said,  slowly;  "he  ain't 
yet." 

"And  he  says  we're  goin'  to  walk  to-morrow — 
the  three  of  us — guess  where." 

Nedda  snapped  the  cord  of  her  parcel  and  re- 
fused to  guess. 

"We're  goin'  across  the  tracks!" 

She  stared  at  him.  "You're  crazy!"  she  said, 
sharply. 

He  shook  his  head.  "Nope.  Bill  says  we  are, 
and  what's  more,  he's  goin'  to  pick  the  place  where 
he's  goin'  t'  build  his  house." 

"Don't  he  know  the  rich  folks  over  there  don't 
want  us  factory  hands  trampin'  over  their  grounds?" 

Tony  chuckled. 

"Don't   make   no    difference   to    Bill.     Do   you 


52  The  Road  of  Ambition 

know  what  he  says?  He  says:  'Why  can't  we  go 
there,  I'd  like  to  know!  Them  swells  would  have 
mighty  few  gardens  and  houses  to  look  at  if  it 
wasn't  for  us  sweatin'  day  and  night  to  make  'em 
rich' — and  he's  right,  too." 

Nedda  threaded  a  needle. 

"He's  just  talkin',"   she  said;  "he  won't  really 

go." 

"Sure  he  will,"  said  he,  confidently;  "he  always 
does  what  he  sets  out  to." 

Nedda  spread  the  goods  on  her  knees. 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  Tony,  curiously.  She 
folded  it  deftly. 

"Oh,  only  a  dress " 

"You  ain't  never  had  one  that  color  before.  What 
made  you  get  it?" 

"It's  the  color  of  the  steel  at  the  big  heat,"  she 
said  softly.  "I  like  it." 

Next  morning  Bill  called  for  them. 

"Are  you  ready?"  he  shouted. 

Tony  swung  the  door  open.  "Sure,"  he  nodded. 
"Come  on  in." 

But  Bill  shook  his  head.  "Ain't  got  time.  We've 
got  a  long  tramp  ahead  of  us." 

"Hear  that,  Nedda?"  called  Tony  over  his 
shoulder.  Then  he  whispered  to  Bill:  "Wait  until 
you  see  her  dress.  It's  a  new  one.  She  sat  up  all 
night  makin'  it." 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches  53 

Bill  laughed.     "She'll  need  it  to-day." 

At  that  moment  Nedda  appeared.  She  stood 
framed  in  the  doorway,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes 
shy  with  a  warm,  deep  gladness. 

"Oh,  Bill!"  she  cried;  "ain't  it  too  early  to 
start?" 

He  turned  and  stared  at  her — at  the  dress  flaunt- 
ing its  daring  poppy  color — at  the  soft  coil  of  her 
hair — black  as  night  against  the  smooth  whiteness  of 
her  throat.  She  had  tucked  a  flower  at  her  breast. 
Its  petals  trembled  as  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  with 
quick  breaths. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  she  asked,  eagerly. 

Bill  caught  her  hands. 

"Do  I?  Why,  Nedda,  it's  like— it's  like  what  I 
told  you  last  night — the  furnaces  at  full  blast!" 

She  tossed  her  head.  "As  if  I  wanted  to  look 
like  an  old  furnace !  I  think  it's  more  the  color  of 
the  sunset  at  closin'  time — you  know,  when  the  sky 
is  so  soft  and  red  you'd  like  to — well,  to  reach  up 
and  stroke  it!" 

Bill  laughed.  "I  guess  you're  right.  Sunsets 
beat  furnaces  all  hollow,  don't  they?" 

He  led  the  way  down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the 
cool,  sweet  air.  Nedda  spoke  shyly.  "I  know  an 
awful  pretty  place  over  by  the  Duck  Pond." 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "No  Duck  Pond  for  us  to- 
day," said  he,  squaring  his  shoulders  as  a  diver  does 
before  a  plunge.  Tony  grinned. 


54  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  he  whispered.  Still  she 
was  unconvinced. 

"To  Cranfort?"  she  asked.     Bill  shook  his  head. 

"No,  not  there." 

"To  Baker's  Woods?" 

"No." 

"To  Livingston?" 

"No — I  guess  you  know  where  we're  goin',  all 
right.  Tony  told  you,  didn't  he?" 

"Sure  I  did,"  cried  Tony,  "only  she  won't  believe 
it." 

"Well,  it's  true.  It's  across  the  track  for  us  to- 
day— forward,  march!"  But  Nedda  hung  back. 
"I  don't  want  to,"  she  said,  at  length.  "Let's  go 
to  the  Duck  Pond  instead — it's  a  real  pretty  walk 
there." 

Bill  laughed  at  her  and  drew  her  hand  through 
his  arm. 

"It's  'cause  you're  scared  of  the  swells,  ain't  it? 
You  think  we  ain't  got  a  right  to  walk  around  their 
streets,  seein'  as  we're  factory  folks?  Well,  you 
might  as  well  get  used  to  it — you'll  be  visitin'  up 
there  pretty  regular  once  I  get  my  house  built !" 

Nedda  shook  her  head. 

"You're  foolin',  Bill — you  know,  same  as  I  do, 
that  Mr.  Colt's  got  a  sign  at  the  Works  sayin'  as  it's 
private  property  over  there  and  that  he'll  send  any 
one  up  for  trespassin'." 

"Well,  walking  along  the  sidewalk  ain't  trespass- 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches  55 

in',  is  it?  You'll  like  it  once  you  get  there — you 
know  you  will." 

"Sure  she  will,"  echoed  Tony.  "Don't  you  want 
to  see  the  houses  that  belong  to  them  black  and 
white  awnings?" 

"And  the  folks  that  belong  to  the  houses?"  fin- 
ished Bill.  Then  he  smiled  at  her.  "There  won't 
be  one  of  them  can  hold  a  candle  to  you,  though — 
not  the  best  of  'em  won't !" 

She  did  not  answer. 

As  though  crossing  the  Rubicon,  they  stepped 
over  the  grass-grown  tracks.  A  flush  of  excite- 
ment crept  into  Tony's  pale  cheeks. 

"Once,  when  I  was  a  kid,  I  come  over  here.  It 
was  when  Pop  and  the  other  men  brought  a  peti- 
tion to  Judge  Van  Steer  to  sign — he  was  the  whole 
cheese  then,  before  the  Big  Four  squeezed  him  out. 
Well,  I  followed  them.  I  don't  remember  the  road 
'ceptin'  it  was  steep  and  awful  dark — but  the  Judge's 
house — I'll  never  forget  that." 

"His  little  girl  was  havin'  a  party,  wasn't  she?" 
broke  in  Nedda.  Tony  nodded. 

"You  bet  she  was.  When  the  front  door  opened 
I  could  see  inside.  I  could  see  a  bunch  of  kids  all 
dressed  up  sittin'  at  a  big  white  table  covered  with 
flowers  and  ribbons — and  at  the  head  of  the  table 
was  the  prettiest  little  girl  I  ever  laid  eyes  on." 

"It  was  Miss  Daphne,"  said  Nedda. 

"Yep.     It  was  her  party,  and  she  was  just  cuttin' 


56  The  Road  of  Ambition 

cake — a  whopper  of  a  cake — all  silver  and  pink — 
with  candles  on  it.  Her  father  was  sittin'  'longside 
of  her  all  dressed  up,  too;  but  when  they  told  him 
the  men  was  outside  he  come  out  to  talk  with  them, 
and  they  went  into  another  room,  but  they  forgot 
about  me,  an'  I  stays  there  watchin',  an'  when  they 
begins  pullin'  out  them  paper  caps  and  makin'  the 
snappers  go  bang  I  claps  my  hands — gee !  but  I  cer- 
tainly wanted  to  mix  with  that  crowd." 

"An*  the  judge's  little  girl  seen  you,"  prompted 
Nedda. 

"Sure.  She  pipes  me  peekin',  and  she  says: 
'Who's  that  little  boy?'  I  guess  them  swell  gents 
servin'  would  a  give  a  whole  lot  to  chuck  me  out, 
only  she  stops  them.  'He's  come  to  my  party,  too,' 
she  says;  'so  you're  to  give  him  cake  and  ice  cream 
same  as  the  rest.'  They  tries  to  sidetrack  her,  but 
a  queen  had  nothin'  on  her.  At  last  she  got  mad 
and  stamps  her  foot  at  them,  and,  cuttin'  a  big  hunk 
of  cake,  climbs  down  from  the  table  and  brings  it 
to  me  herself.  I  was  so  scared  I  couldn't  say  a 
word — you  know  how  kids  are — but  I  just  keeps 
my  eyes  glued  on  that  little  fairy.  'Here,  boy,  this 
is  for  you — you  can  have  as  much  as  you  like.' 

"Just  then  the  meetin'  was  over  and  Pop,  he 
catches  sight  of  me  and  makes  a  grab  for  me.  I 
must  have  hollered,  but  it  didn't  do  no  good;  Pop 
wasn't  strong  for  havin'  me  mix  with  the  'ristocrats, 
and  I  never  did  get  that  ice  cream." 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          57 

Bill  laughed.  "Only  shows  what  I've  always  held 
— that  rich  folks  ain't  so  hard-hearted  given  a  fair 
chance — it's  just  that  they're  different  from  us. 
They  ain't  never  been  poor,  or  cold,  or  hungry,  or 
wet,  so  you  can't  expect  'em  to  know  how  it  feels." 
But  Nedda  was  not  listening.  "Ain't  that  pretty!" 
she  cried,  suddenly.  They  had  reached  Bethel 
proper. 

Bethel's  Main  Street  was  bathed  in  a  warm,  rich, 
Sunday  morning  sunlight.  The  shades  of  its  shop 
windows  drawn,  like  discreet  eyes,  veiling  their  curi- 
osity behind  lowered  lids.  A  comfortable  hush  hung 
over  all — a  hush  betokening  work  well  done — rest 
deserved — a  luxurious  hush. 

The  street  lost  itself  in  a  sharp  ascent,  screened 
by  an  avenue  of  maples  which  arched  overhead  and 
through  whose  leaves  the  sun,  with  a  royal  prod- 
igality, spilled  a  million  tiny  replicas  of  himself. 

Bethel  proper,  in  the  last  analysis,  was  not  unlike 
any  other  small  city  in  the  East.  On  the  Upper 
Ridge  perched  the  mansions  of  the  First  Families — 
the  stucco  Clubhouse — the  eighteen-hole  course. 

On  the  Lower  Ridge  settled  the  be-cupola-ed,  be- 
eaved  homes  of  the  Old  Families — a  generation  of 
Bethelites  behind  them. 

And  across  the  track — a  blot  on  the  landscape — 
sprawled  the  Works — the  Works,  whose  dust-laden 
grime  was  the  food  on  which  Bethel  had  thrived. 
Out  of  its  squalidness — its  smoke — its  slums,  out  of 


58  The  Road  of  Ambition 

its  cinders — its  slag — its  soot — had  risen  the  proud 
city  on  its  hillside. 

The  Upper  Ridge  sported  underslung  roadsters 
which  shot  down  the  hill  both  morning  and  evening 
and  congregated  in  a  gaudy  group  before  the  doors 
of  its  office  buildings.  The  Lower  Ridge  still  drove 
to  market  in  open  victorias  and  pony  phaetons,  but 
across  the  tracks  one  was  content  to  walk  to  work 
and  back  again — day  in  and  day  out,  until  the  be- 
ginning and  the  end  of  the  world  was  reckoned  by 
the  shriek  of  the  whistle  at  dawn  and  at  sundown. 

Verily,  heaven  and  earth  were  never  so  far  apart 
as  these  three . 

Bill  stared  about  him.  He  threw  back  his  shoul- 
ders. He  flung  up  his  head.  He  had  always  want- 
ed to  come  there.  He  had  always  promised  himself 
that  some  day — some  day  before  he  was  too  old — 
he  would  gaze  at  the  homes  of  the  Big  Four — the 
men  who  controlled  the  Works — the  town — the 
country — Cyrus  P.  Colt  and  the  rest.  But  he  hadn't 
come.  He  had  put  it  off  from  year  to  year  as 
though  he  were  unconsciously  waiting  for  something 
that  would  turn  his  footsteps  there — But  now  he 
knew  why  he  had  waited — it  was  in  preparation  for 
this  golden  day  when  he  could  come  to  gaze  at  this 
coveted  place  and  know  that  it  might  be  a  possible 
home  for  him — Bill  Bill — !  He  must  be  asleep! 
You  read  about  folks  who  strike  it  rich  now  and 
then,  but  you  never  were  the  lucky  bloke  yourself! 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          59 

He  grinned  appreciatively  at  the  people  passing 
by — respectable  folks — all  togged  out  for  Sunday. 
They  drew  away  from  him  with  sidelong  glances. 
Sure,  why  shouldn't  they?  he  chuckled.  He  was  tre- 
mendous, uncouth,  shabby — but  they'd  be  speaking 
to  him  soon,  he  told  himself,  every  last  one  of  them ! 

Then  he  jerked  himself  up.  He  was  dreaming — 
he  must  be !  Why  should  he  suppose  he  could  mix 
with  them — it  took  something  else — breeding.  But 
whatever  it  was  money  could  buy  it — money  could 
do  anything 

He'd  have  a  house — Jiminy!  he'd  have  a  house 
like  the  big  white  one  they  were  passing.  He  heard 
Tony  shout  back  to  them  to  look  at  it,  and  he 
nodded — Gleaming  white  pillars — a  spread  of  lawn 
that  looked  like  velvet — a  cluster  of  orange  mari- 
golds— great,  that!  How  would  it  feel,  he  won- 
dered, sucking  in  his  breath  sharply,  to  walk  up  that 
long  avenue,  to  know  that  every  inch  of  it  was  yours 
— every  tree — every  shrub — every  blade  of  grass — 
and  yet — there  was  something  lacking — something 
vital — what  was  it? 

As  he  gazed,  a  woman  with  a  little  boy  clinging 
to  her  hand  stepped  out  on  the  porch.  The  child 
threw  a  ball  and  the  woman  sprang  after  it,  laugh- 
ing. Bill  stopped  short — a  woman,  by  God!  that 
was  just  what  that  big  white  barn  of  a  house  need- 
ed! A  woman — and  a  little  tyke  in  knickers !  He 
had  never  thought  of  that  before — never! 


6o  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"She  must  be  his  mother,"  whispered  Nedda. 

The  woman,  stopping  in  the  midst  of  the  play, 
had  suddenly  swept  the  little  boy  with  fierce  tender- 
ness to  her  heart — her  lips  against  his  fair  hair. 
"Ain't  they  happy,  though!" 

He  looked  at  Nedda  and  his  heart  beat  a  trifle 
faster — Nedda — in  her  dress  of  warm  red — her  lit- 
tle black  head — her  slender  throat — her  eager, 
parted  lips — yes,  you  needed  a  woman.  He  made 
up  his  mind  in  a  flash. 

"I'm  a-goin  to  have  a  house  just  like  that,"  he 
declared. 

"Are  you,  Bill?"  said  she,  without  turning.  She 
was  still  watching  the  woman  and  the  little  boy. 

"It'll  be  a  big  house,  Nedda,"  he  said,  slowly, 
"an' — an' — I  reckon  it'll  be  a  lonely  one — unless — 

unless "  he  stopped.  She  turned  quickly,  and 

her  eyes  leaped  to  meet  him.  In  them  he  read  his 
answer. 

"Unless — what,  Bill?"  she  whispered,  her  hands 
clasped.  But  at  a  sudden  shout  from  Tony,  Bill 
whirled. 

"Come  here,  quick,"  he  called.  "Machine  stuck 
in  the  mud — want  your  help — hurry " 

Nedda  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "Wait,  Bill," 
she  pleaded;  "you  can  go  after — after  you  finish." 

But  the  spell  was  broken  and  he  shook  his  head. 

"Not  now,  Nedda,"  he  said,  brusquely.  "Some 
one's  in  trouble — come  on." 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          61 

A  turn  in  the  road  disclosed  a  long  gray  touring 
car — tipped  to  one  side,  its  rear  wheel  caught  in  a 
rut.  About  it  fussed  an  anxious  little  chauffeur  in 
livery.  Tony  was  offering  useless  advice. 

There  was  a  woman  in  the  car,  but  her  face  was 
averted,  rather  as  though  the  slight  mishap  were 
beneath  her  notice  and  entirely  for  menials  to  ad- 
just. Tony  greeted  Bill  with:  "He's  waitin'  for  a 
tow — don't  many  cars  come  up  this  hill." 

Bill  examined  the  wheel  carefully,  then  he  turned 
to  the  chauffeur: 

"Have  you  tried  backin'.  You  had  ought  to  pull 
out." 

The  chauffeur  gulped  and  nodded.  "Everything 
that  could  be  done's  been  done — it  just  won't 
budge." 

Then  a  voice  came  to  them — a  cool,  measured 
voice.  "You'll  have  to  budge  it,  Johnson.  I  told 
you  I  must  be  there  by  one."  That  was  all,  but 
Nedda  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  cheek,  turned 
toward  them  for  an  instant  to  deliver  the  ultimatum 
— and  she  gave  a  gasp. 

"I  know  who  that  is,"  she  said,  breathlessly.  Bill 
laughed. 

"So  do  I.     It's  the  Empress  of  Inja " 

But  Nedda  shook  her  head.  "It's  Miss  Van 
Steer — Miss  Daphne  Van  Steer — I  seen  her  pic- 
tures in  the  papers." 

Bill   straightened  up.       Miss   Van   Steer!    The 


62  The  Road  of  Ambition 

daughter  of  the  dethroned  Steel  King — the  steel 
princess  1  She  was  like  a  princess,  when  you  came 
to  think  of  it — her  chin  uptilted,her  slim  little  shoul- 
der toward  the  group.  Bill  grinned  to  himself.  He 
was  going  to  speak  to  her — to  make  her  answer 
him — to  make  her  thank  him.  He  approached. 

"Excuse  me,  ma'am,"  he  said;  "but  did  I  hear 
you  say  you  had  to  be  somewhere  by  one?" 

She  turned,  and  Bill  drew  a  quick  breath.  He 
had  never  known  a  woman  could  be  so  beautiful — 
it  was  not  only  her  eyes  and  coloring  and  hair — it 
was  the  royal  poise  of  the  little  head  beneath  its 
tiny  blue  hat — the  white  transparency  of  her  skin — 
the  moulding  of  her  lips — the  long  slenderness  of 
her  fingers. 

"If  there  is  anything  you  can  do,"  she  was  saying, 
a  bit  patronizingly,  "you  will  be  well  repaid." 

At  that  Bill  grinned,  though  something  gripped 
him,  held  him  fast.  That  was  a  woman  for  you ! 
With  blue  blood  in  every  vein — a  woman  who  could 
look  at  a  man  through  half-shut  lids  as  though  she 
did  not  see  him — could  speak  to  him  with  freezing 
politeness  which  meant  nothing.  He  wondered  what 
her  smile  must  be  like — her  laugh. 

He  was  conscious  of  his  intense  stare  by  her 
words:  "Do  you  intend  doing  anything — or  are  you 
merely — impertinent  ?" 

He  smiled.  Impertinent!  No — no — a  thousand 
times  no!  It  was  as  though  he  had  looked  upon  a 


A  Dream  of  Great  Riches          63 

shrine — as  though  a  marble  statue  had  spoken. 
That  would  be  a  woman  worth  possessing! — a 
woman  worthy  of  the  house  of  the  gleaming  pillars 
— that  was  the  sort  of  woman  a  man  needed — a 
woman  with  ice  in  her  voice — a  voice  as  mellow 
and  rich  as  the  tone  of  an  organ.  He  whipped  off 
his  coat — do  anything?  He'd  show  her! 

"You  can't  lift  it,  you're  crazy!"  protested  Tony. 
Bill  did  not  heed  him.  He  saw  only  level  green  eyes 
— and  tendrils  of  hair  the  color  of  melted  gold — 
he  did  not  hear  Nedda's  voice — 

"Bill,  remember,  you  ain't  strong  yet — you " 

Strong!  Why,  he'd  never  been  so  strong  in  his 
life  as  he  was  with  this  new  fire  of  purpose  coursing 
through  his  veins.  Here  was  his  chance  to  prove 
himself  to  the  woman  beautiful. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,"  he  heard  himself  saying 
to  the  little  chauffeur,  and  then  Miss  Van  Steer 
spoke : 

"You'd  better  not  try  to  lift  it  alone — you  may 
hurt  yourself." 

She  was  afraid  for  him — for  one  minute  in  her 
life  she  had  paused  to  be  afraid  for  him — Big  Bill. 
He  put  his  shoulder  to  the  car,  caught  his  breath, 
and  exerted  all  the  force  of  his  tremendous  strength. 
Slowly  the  car  moved — he  lifted  it — it  cleared  the 
ground.  He  set  it  down  again  on  the  dry  road.  He 
stepped  back,  breathing  fast,  mopping  his  forehead. 

The  chauffeur  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 


64  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"You  must  be  some  strong,"  he  gasped;  "I  never 
did  see  no  one  do  a  thing  like  that  before !" 

Miss  Van  Steer  was  fumbling  in  her  gold  bag. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  thank  you,"  she  said, 
earnestly.  He  shook  his  head. 

"  'Twasn't  nothin'." 

She  held  out  a  coin  and  he  moved  forward. 
He'd  take  it — some  day  he'd  show  it  to  her.  She 
dropped  it  in  his  hand  and  he  felt  her  cool  fingers. 
Then  she  smiled! 

The  car  shot  forward  with  a  sudden  impulse. 
She  turned  and  glanced  back.  Bareheaded  in  the 
road  stood  the  great  giant  of  a  man — staring  after 
her  as  one  in  a  dream! 


CHAPTER  IV 

NEWS    FROM   BENSON 

A  WEEK  passed  by — and  then  two.  Big  Bill  had 
^  *•  become  a  familiar  figure  in  the  chief's  outer  of- 
fice. The  force  were  very  cordial  to  him.  They  as- 
sured him  the  matter  was  before  the  Board.  A  few 
more  days — a  little  patience — No,  Mr.  Benson  could 
not  see  him  just  then — he  was  in  conference — those 
things  took  time. 

Time!  Bill  clenched  his  fist.  Time!  Did  they 
expect  a  man  to  wait  forever?  Couldn't  they  give 
him  an  answer — a  hint  of  an  answer — Of  course,  he 
told  himself,  it  would  be  all  right — it  would  all  come 
out  O.  K. ;  but  there  was  always  that  little  gnawing 
in  one's  heart  of  hearts — that  teasing  fear  lest  some- 
thing go  amiss — of  course,  it  wouldn't — and  yet 

Nedda  saw  the  strain  beneath  which  he  labored — 
saw  it  and  was  afraid  for  him,  but  he  laughed  at  her. 

"I  ain't  worryin',  so  why  should  you?  I'm  lucky 
to  have  them  give  it  the  once  over,  ain't  I  ?  Don't 
you  suppose  I  know  it'll  take  a  blamed  long  time?" 

And  yet  each  night  he  found  some  excuse  to  pass 
the  office — to  pause  irresolute,  half  hoping  Benson 
would  come  out — half  fearing  what  news  the  chief 
65 


66  The  Road  of  Ambition 

would  bring  him  if  he  did.  He  didn't  sleep  well, 
either.  You  couldn't  exactly,  with  so  much  hang- 
ing in  the  balance — and  he  tried  to  forget  by 
plunging  into  work  each  day  with  a  snap  that  left 
him  limp  at  nights.  He  decided  that  the  thing  to 
do  was  to  work  until  he  was  dog-tired — then  he 
would  be  able  to  sleep — that  was  his  system — but  he 
reckoned  without  his  host. 

It  was  on  Monday  of  the  third  week — a  week  that 
found  him  grimly  determined  to  beard  Benson  in  his 
den — to  learn  the  best — or  the  worst — a  black  Mon- 
day. His  legs  felt  heavy — his  arms  felt  heavy — his 
head  was  like  lead.  He  tried  to  buoy  himself  up 
with  the  hopes  on  which  he  had  lived,  but  he  could 
not. 

He  was  in  an  ugly  mood.  The  noise  of  the  Works 
jarred  on  his  ragged  nerves.  The  heat  made  his 
head  swim.  There  was  a  big  job  on  hand — a  rush 
order.  He  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  crew 
and  drove  his  men  as  he  had  never  driven  them  be- 
fore. Choking  from  the  dust-filled  air — the  bursts 
of  heat — the  grime — they  scurried  to  and  fro  at  his 
sharp  commands — whipped  to  action  by  the  note  in 
his  voice — harsh — rough.  There  was  a  new  man  in 
the  gang — a  man  to  replace  Polifsky,  of  the  sev- 
ered hand.  The  man  was  slow — cautious.  Big  Bill 
watched  him  with  an  irritation  that  he  tried  in  vain 
to  conquer.  Every  man  was  slow  at  first — he'd  soon 
get  the  hang  of  it — but  his  resentment  swelled — th§ 


News  from  Benson  67 

fellow  was  a  drag — held  back  the  work  when  there 
was  so  much  to  do.  They  must  hurry — hurry — the 
fever  in  his  blood  demanded  speed — speed — speed 
— more  speed. 

He  watched  the  man  with  growing  anger.  He 
spoke  to  him  gruffly. 

"What  you  scared  of?" 

The  man  did  not  understand  English,  but  he 
shrank  back  from  the  glare  in  Bill's  eyes — bloodshot 
— heavy.  Bill  scowled.  "You're  no  good,  savez? — 
no  good.  Here!"  he  growled;  "give  me  that.  I'll 
show  you." 

He  seized  the  tongs  roughly  from  the  man's  hands 
and  thrust  him  aside. 

"Do  like  this,  do  you  get  me?  Or  I'll  knock  your 
bloomin'  block  off.  Think  the  company's  payin'  you 
for  loafin'?" 

The  man's  drawn  white  face  infuriated  him — his 
blank  stare — his  effort  to  speak  which  ended  with  a 
rapid  moistening  of  his  lips.  Bill  swore  at  him. 
Why  the  devil  couldn't  they  talk  English  instead  of 
jabbering  gibberish? — he'd  make  him  understand! 

"Don't  look  at  me!"  he  thundered.  "Look  at 
this!"  He  pointed  to  the  tongs — the  man  dropped 
his  eyes  with  an  effort.  Bill  sprang  forward.  He 
wished  his  arms  did  not  tremble  so — that  his  head 
was  clearer.  The  crane,  with  leisurely  nonchalance, 
was  swinging  its  glowing  bar  directly  above  him. 

"Now,  watch  me !"  he  shouted,  raising  the  tongs, 


68  The  Road  of  Ambition 

and  then  it  happened — his  knees  gave  way  under  him 
— he  heard  Eddie's  shriek. 

"Jump — jump — for  God's  sake  ju " 

He  felt  a  brand  of  fire  sear  his  shoulder — he 
pitched  forward,  grateful  for  the  darkness  which 
closed  in  on  him  from  all  sides. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was  dusk — there  was 
a  sharp  pain  in  his  neck  and  shoulder.  Some  one  was 
bending  over  him.  It  was  Nedda — no;  it  was  Miss 
M'Farlane — no — it  was  the  Beautiful  Lady  of  the 
gray  touring  car. 

"I  knowed  you'd  come,"  he  whispered;  "when  I 

showed  you  how  strong  I  was It  wasn't  nothin' 

to  lift  that  car — gee !  but  you're  a  queen,  all  right — 
only  when  you  smiled " 

She  seemed  to  recede.  He  heard  a  voice — tense 
— full  of  agony. 

"It's  me,  Bill — it's  me — don't  you  know  me — it's 
Nedda " 

He  thrust  her  away — now  the  Beautiful  Lady  was 
returning. 

"I'll  build  you  a  house,"  he  told  her;  "same  as  the 
one  I  saw — did  you  think  I  wanted  your  money? — do 
anything!  I'll  show  you!" 

And  he  lapsed  back  once  more  into  unconscious- 
ness. 

Nedda  was  not  afraid.  He  would  not  die.  He 
could  not!  She  would  fight  for  his  life  with  her 
last  breath.  He  had  burned  his  shoulder  cruelly, 


News  from  Benson  69 

and  that,  together  with  the  strain  of  the  past  weeks, 
had  brought  on  the  fever.  She  was  strong.  She  had 
nursed  Tony  through  many  illnesses — and  now,  for 
the  space  of  a  few  days  or  weeks,  Big  Bill  would  be 
hers.  During  the  day  she  reluctantly  surrendered 
him  to  Miss  M'Farlane — jealous  even  of  her  care 
— but  at  night  it  was  Nedda's  voice  that  answered 
when  he  called  the  woman  of  his  dreams — her  hand 
that  soothed  him.  Hers — hers !  No  one  could  take 
him  away  from  her  now — this  great,  helpless  man 
who  shouted  another  woman's  name  in  his  delirium 
— but  was  quieted  not  by  that  woman's  voice  but  by 
hers — Nedda's ! 

And  at  last  the  day  came  when  he  was  once  more 
himself.  Weak,  and  gaunt,  and  white,  he  had  opened 
his  eyes  on  a  normal  world.  He  had  lain  quiet  a 
long  while  trying  to  remember — to  think — and  he 
had  at  length  turned  his  head  a  trifle — but  enough 
to  see  Miss  M'Farlane  beside  him — bending  over 
her  work — her  needle  flying  in  and  out  at  a  twitch  of 
her  wrist.  He  smiled. 

"Ain't  had  to  do  my  socks  for  some  considerable 
time,  have  you?"  he  managed  to  whisper. 

She  sprang  up  and  ran  to  him. 

"Bill!"  she  cried;  "Bill!  You're  better!" 

Then  she  would  allow  him  to  say  no  more,  but  in 
answer  to  the  question  in  his  eyes  she  told  him  he 
had  been  ill  for  many  long  weeks — that  Nedda  had 
nursed  him  at  nights — that  there  had  been  no  news 


jo  The  Road  of  Ambition 

from  the  Works — none  at  all.  He  closed  his  eyes. 
After  all,  it  did  not  matter.  Nothing  mattered  much 
when  a  fellow  was  so  all-fired  weak. 

Along  toward  supper  time  he  saw  Nedda.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  she  looked  unusually  white,  with 
dark  shadows  under  her  eyes,  but  when  he  spoke 
of  it  she  laughed.  "I'm  all  right,"  she  assured  him. 
Then  she  drew  her  chair  close  to  his  bed  and  told 
him  all  he  had  been  longing  to  hear — that  the  men 
had  blundered  along  as  best  they  could  without  him 
— were  impatient  for  his  return. 

"Benson?"' he  whispered.  She  did  not  meet  his 
eyes. 

"Not  yet,"  she  said.    He  went  to  sleep  with  a  sigh. 

"It  was  a  slow  process — getting  well.  He  came  to 
hate  the  four  walls  of  his  little  room  with  a  fierce 
intensity.  He  hated  the  crack  in  the  ceiling  that  he 
must  perforce  stare  at  as  he  lay  on  his  back.  He 
hated  the  dark  square  of  wallpaper  where  a  previous 
tenant's  picture  had  hung.  He  hated  the  blistered 
window-sill — the  warped  door.  And  as  the  strength 
ebbed  once  more  through  his  veins  he  resented  the 
doctor's  ordftrs.  He  pleaded  with  Tony  to  send 
word  to  Benson  that  he  must  see  him.  Tony  evaded 
him.  Benson  was  away.  No  one  knew  when  he 
would  return.  Bill  was  to  get  strong  and  worry 
afterward. 

Get  strong — worry  afterward — did  they  take  him 


News  from  Benson  71 

for  a  blamed  kid !  The  Company  doctor  grinned  at 
his  impatience.  "You're  not  going  to  see  any  one 
until  that  shoulder  of  yours  has  healed,  so  cheer  up." 

If  it  had  not  been  for  Nedda,  he  told  himself  over 
and  over,  he  could  never  have  lived  through  the  dark 
hours  of  his  convalescence.  She,  at  least,  could 
let  a  man  talk  things  over  with  her  without  choking 
him  off — she  could  sympathize — could  understand. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  he  could  sit  up  in  a 
chair — an  easy  chair — borrowed  from  the  landlady 
— a  chair  filled  with  cushions.  Bill  flung  the  cush- 
ions to  the  floor — but  Nedda  smiled  at  him. 

"Leave  'em  back  of  you  for  a  while,"  she  coaxed; 
"just  to  please  me." 

He  did — with  a  growl.  He  would  not  have  ad- 
mitted for  the  world  that  they  felt  good — that  they 
eased  the  pain. 

Nedda  and  Tony  had  gone  to  work.  Miss  M'Far- 
lane  had  hurried  away  to  match  some  materials,  and 
he  was  left  alone.  Nothing  to  do.  Wasn't  even  to 
read!  He'd  show  them  if  he'd  sit  there  like  a 
mummy  in  a  case !  But  his  legs  would  not  bear  his 
weight — and  he  dropped  back  with  the  angry  tears 
stinging  his  eyes.  If  they'd  only  tell  him  what  had 
happened — if  Benson  would  only  drop  around  even 
if  it  were  only  to  break  it  to  him  that  his  process 
was  a  frost — if  some  one  would  only  end  the  sus- 
pense one  way  or  the  other  he  could  bear  it. 

He  drew  in  his  breath  sharply.     Some  one  was 


72  The  Road  of  Ambition 

mounting  the  stairs.  Some  one  with  a  measured 
stride.  Not  Nedda's  patter,  or  the  doctor's  brisk 
tread — no — some  one  else.  The  footsteps  paused 
outside  his  door.  There  was  a  moment's  silence — 
then  a  rap. 

Bill  swallowed.  "Come  in,"  he  said.  The  door 
swung  open.  Bill  gave  a  cry,  and  then  stared  at  the 
man  before  him. 

"Benson!"  he  whispered. 

Benson  entered.  He  shut  the  door  carefully  be- 
hind him.  He  came  forward  with  a  smile,  and  yet 
his  eyes  were  grave. 

"Well,  Bill,"  he  said,  slowly,  "you've  pulled  out 
at  last." 

Bill  did  not  reply.  He  kept  his  eyes  on  the  man's 
face — watching — watching  for  a  sign  one  way  or  the 

other.  He  wished  he  did  not  feel  so  weak If  he 

could  only  fling  himself  up  from  his  chair  and  stamp 
up  and  down  the  room — anything  but  sit  there  and 
wait.  Benson  dropped  into  the  little  straight-back 
chair  opposite  him. 

"Suppose  you  wonder  why  I  didn't  come  before 
this." 

What  did  it  mean,  this  evasion  of  the  subject. 
Did  you  have  to  play  a  game  before  getting  down  to 
brass  tacks?  Well,  if  you  did — by  Jiminy,  he'd  play 
it !  He  wouldn't  be  the  first  to  call  the  hand. 

"No,  sir,"  he  heard  himself  say;  "Tony  said  you'd 
been  away." 


News  from  Benson  73 

"Tony  was  told  to  say  that,"  said  Benson;  "I've 
been  here  all  along." 

What  was  that  a  cue  for?  Was  he  supposed  to 
ask  point-blank  what  had  happened — or  was  it  sim- 
ply a  letting-down  process?  He  waited.  Benson 
looked  him  over  critically. 

"I  suppose  you  know  you've  been  pretty  sick." 

He  had  to  say  something.  "I  guess  I'm  all  right 
now,  sir."  The  chief  nodded. 

"That's  what  the  doctor  told  me.  'You  can  go 
around  and  see  him,'  he  said;  'only  make  him  take 
things  slowly.'  " 

Slowly — slowly — what  did  they  suppose  he  had 
been  doing  all  these  long,  blank  weeks? 

"So  at  last  I've  come  to  tell  you " 

He  stopped.  Bill  knew  in  a  flash  what  had  hap- 
pened. This  man  before  him  was  struggling  to  spare 
him^— afraid  the  shock  might  set  him  back — but  more 
afraid  to  keep  it  from  him  longer.  He  gave  a  groan. 

"Go  on !"  he  snapped  through  his  teeth.  "It  ain't 
a-goin'  to  hurt  me.  Get  it  over  with.  You  come  to 
say  the  process  wasn't  no  go — didn't  you?  See,  I 
knowed  it  all  the  time " 

He  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands.  He  wasn't 
going  to  see  the  pity  in  the  chief's  eyes — not  by  a  jug- 
ful. But  Benson  was  speaking — speaking  in  a  crisp, 
cheerful  tone : 

"On  the  contrary,  Bill — your  process  has  proved 
itself  beyond  our  greatest  expectations." 


74  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Proved  itself!  Proved  itself!  Bill  drew  in  his 
breath  with  a  sob  and  stared  at  him. 

"Say  that  over !'  he  gasped.     "Say  that  over  I" 
Benson  smiled.     "Not  unless  you  calm  down  a 
bit.    It  was  just  what  we  were  afraid  of — you're  get- 
ting too  excited,  I  mean.    It's  as  bad  one  way  as  the 
other." 

But  Bill  did  not  hear  him.  "Proved  itself!"  he 
whispered;  "and  you  kept  me  guessin'  and  stew- 
in' " 

"Had  to,"  said  Benson  briskly;  "doctor's  orders. 
Didn't  even  tell  your  friends.  Afraid  they  might 
not  be  able  to  keep  it.  They  know  it  now,  though. 
It's  all  over  the  Works  by  this  time!" 

Bill  caught  his  breath.     "And  I'll  be  rich?" 
Benson  nodded.     "It  looks  that  way." 
Bill  stared  at  him.    Rich !  Rich !  The  golden  dream 
had  come  true !    He  wanted  to  shout — to  laugh — to 
toss  his  pillows  in  the  air.     But  he  could  not.     Men 
didn't  do  that  sort  of  thing.    Instead  he  steadied  his 
voice  and  leaned  toward  Benson. 

"You  ainrt  stringin'  me?"  he  asked,  suddenly; 
"are  you?" 

When  Benson  left  him  he  sat  like  one  turned  to 
stone.  From  a  distance  was  borne  to  him  the  long 
screech  of  the  whistle — the  calls  and  cries  of  men  re- 
leased from  work — and  closer,  the  whining  of  the 
puny  baby  on  the  floor  above — a  woman's  voice  be- 


News  from  Benson  75 

neath  his  window,  shrilly  bickering  with  a  huckster — 
life  surging  about  him  with  its  close-of-day  tumult — 
but  leaving  him  unmoved — untouched.  Power — 
Power — more  Power — everything  would  be  his  now 
— everything  his  heart  desired — and  the  vision  of 
a  woman,  her  cheek  averted,  sprang  before  his  eyes. 
"Yes,"  he  said  through  his  teeth,  "even  you !" 

He  heard  a  chorus  of  voices  below — shrill — eager 
— they  were  calling  him.  "Bill — Bill" — they  shout- 
ed. He  sat  erect.  The  men  were  coming — Benson 
had  said  the  news  was  all  over  the  Works  by  this 
time — they  knew. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Big  Bill?"  yelled  a  voice 
— only  to  be  lost  in  the  swelling  clamor;  "He's  all 
right!" 

They  pounded  up  the  stairs,  Tony  at  the  head. 
They  tore  open  the  door  and  poured  into  his  room. 
His  own  crew,  grimy  and  black  from  work — their 
teeth  shining  white  as  they  stared  at  him  for  an  awk- 
ward moment. 

"Gee!  Bill,  how  does  it  feel  to  be  rich?" 
"Don't  forget  your  old  friends,  Bill!" 
"Always  knew  you'd  put  one  over!" 

"Say,  Bill,  you  ain't  quittin'  the  Works " 

He  grinned  at  them — at  Eddie,  wiping  his  face 
on  his  ragged  shirt  sleeve  in  an  agony  of  embarrass- 
ment— at  old  Mack,  still  panting  from  the  long  climb 
— at  Tony,  whose  eyes  were  startlingly  like  Nedda's 
in  their  snapping  excitement. 


76  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"How  did  you  find  out?"  he  asked  them. 

The  answer  was  a  confused  roar — still  the  men. 
flocked  in.  Severance  and  his  gang — the  boys  from 
the  rolling  mills — Bill  could  see  their  bobbing  heads 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  the  hum  of  voices 
told  him  of  more  below. 

"You  tell  him,  Tony,"  shouted  Eddie  above  the 
tumult. 

Reluctantly,  they  yielded  the  floor  to  Tony — Tony 
perched  on  top  of  the  table. 

"It  was  this  mornin',  Bill — when  word  come  from 
the  chief's  office — kind  of  slipped  out,  I  guess " 

"Donohue  tol'  me " 

"He  wasn't  to  say  nothin'  until  after  the  chief  had 
been  over  here " 

"Shut  up!"  stormed  Tony;  "ain't  I  elected 
speaker?" 

They  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"Anyway,  everybody  was  sayin'  as  how  the  com- 
pany had  took  up  your  process.  I  said  they  was 
crazy — didn't  I  know  that  Benson  had  turned  it 
down " 

"An'  you  went  over  to  the  office " 

"Who's  tellin'  this?"  cried  Tony;  "the  meetin' 
will  please  come  to  order.  I  says  to  the  fellers,  I 
says,  I'll  pike  over  to  the  office " 

"An'  you  did " 

"An'  they  says  it  was  straight " 

"Yes — O.  K. — chief  himself  payin'  his  respects 


News  from  Benson  77 

to  the  new  inventor,  Mr.  William  Matthews — other- 
wise Big  Bill " 

"Three  cheers  for  him,  fellers " 

"And  three  more  after  that!" 

Their  voices  shook  the  walls — heads  flung  back — 
shouting — but  in  the  midst  of  their  cheer  they  heard 
a  woman's  voice — shrill — commanding: 

"Say,  is  the  whole  bunch  of  you  crazy!  Do  you 
want  to  kill  Bill  just  when  he  makes  good?  Ain't 
you  got  no  brains  at  all,  crowdin'  in  on  him  this 
way " 

It  was  Nedda.  Her  eyes  flashing,  her  breath  in 
gasps.  They  fell  back  before  the  fury  in  her  eyes. 

"I  should  think  the  whole  lot  of  you  would  have 
better  sense  than  to  start  a  rough  house  here." 

Eddie  approached  her  sheepishly. 

"Aw,  say,  we  didn't  mean  no  harm " 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "Don't  make  no  differ- 
ence— it's  out  you  go — no  back  talkin',  neither." 

They  grinned  at  her  commanding  them — a  little, 
willowy  sprite,  no  taller  than  a  man's  shoulder,  and 
they  backed  out  of  the  room  slowly. 

"Guess  we're  in  wrong,  Bill !"  they  shouted. 

"We'll  call  again  when  the  nurse  ain't  here." 

"S'long,  Bill — tickled  to  death  to  see  you " 

Nedda  turned  to  Tony,  hanging  behind.  "An* 
you  can  get,  too,"  she  said,  severely.  "You're  worse 
than  all  the  rest  put  together,  'cause  you  know  how 
sick  he's  been." 


78  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Bill  was  glad  they  had  gone — glad  of  the  peace 
which  stole  over  the  little  room  like  a  cool  breath. 
Nedda  stirred  about  softly.  She  poured  out  his  med- 
icine and  held  it  to  his  lips.  "Drink  this,"  she  said. 
He  took  it  slowly.  She  patted  the  pillows  behind 
him  and  drew  the  quilt  over  his  knees.  He  did  not 
have  to  see  her  to  know  she  was  setting  the  room  to 
rights — he  heard  the  brisk  swish  of  her  broom  as 
she  swept  out  the  last  grimy  footprint.  She  flung 
open  the  window. 

"A  breath  won't  hurt  you,"  she  said.  There  was 
the  sharp  fall  tang  to  the  air.  He  sniffed  it  hun- 
grily. 

"That's  great,"  he  said. 

She  drew  up  a  footstool  beside  him  and  dropped 
on  it.  He  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  she  had 
not  removed  her  little  worn  jacket,  or  her  green  hat 
with  its  stiff  black  quill,  or  even  her  gloves 

"Ain't  you  goin'  to  stay  awhile?"  he  teased. 

She  did  not  answer.  Instead  she  dropped  her  chin 
into  the  palm  of  her  hand  and  stared  through  the 
little  window  at  the  darkening  sky.  All  at  once  she 
seemed  very  tired — there  was  infinite  weariness  in 
the  droop  of  her  red  lips — the  slouch  of  her  shoul- 
ders. He  did  not  notice. 

"Nedda,"  he  whispered,  eagerly;  "it's  come  true 
— it's  all  come  true " 

She  did  not  reply.  He  doubted  if  she  had  heard. 
He  leaned  back  and  closed  his  eyes.  After  a  long 


News  from  Benson  79 

silence  she  raised  her  head  and  gazed  at  him — at  the 
smile  which  touched  the  corner  of  his  lips.  She  laid 
her  hand  lightly  over  his. 

"I'm  glad,  Bill,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  like 
a  caress.     "I'm  awful  glad — for  your  sake." 


CHAPTER  V 

DAWN  OF  A  NEW  LIFE 

TI^HEN  the  first  check  arrived  Bill,  after  a  hur- 
ried glance  at  it,  let  it  flutter  to  the  ground.  It 
lay,  a  little  spot  of  green,  on  the  floor.  He  did  not 
touch  it;  instead,  he  shook  his  head  confusedly  and 
brushed  a  hand  over  his  eyes.  There  was  some  mis- 
take, he  told  himself — there  must  be.  They  could 
not  possibly  mean  to  send  him  that  much  money.  At 
length  he  picked  it  up  and  stared  once  more  at  the 
slip  of  paper  bearing  his  name  right  enough — at  the 
figures  in  the  bookkeeper's  cramped  hand! 

He  had  often  wondered  how  it  would  feel  to  han- 
dle it — to  scratch  his  name  boldly  across  the  back  of 
it — and  now  that  he  held  it — now  that  it  was  actu- 
ally in  his  fingers,  he  was  conscious  only  of  that  aloof 
sensation — as  though  something  were  happening — 
something  stupendous — but  it  was  not  happening  to 
him — it  was  all  very  confusing. 

He  glanced  at  the  little  clock  on  the  shelf — it 
would  be  hours  before  Nedda  and  Tony  would  re- 
turn— hours  before  he  could  show  it  to  them  and 
have  them  convince  him  that  it  was  he,  Big  Bill,  for 
whom  it  was  intended.  He  thought  of  Miss  M'F^ir- 
80 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  8l 

lane — he  would  tell  her  about  it — would  flash  it  be- 
fore her  eyes.  Then  he  stopped  short,  delighted 
with  a  new  idea  that  occurred  to  him.  Why  not  go 
out?  Why  not  surprise  them  all? 

There  was  plenty  of  time;  besides,  he  felt  much 
stronger  now.  There  was  nothing  to  keep  him  there, 
staring  like  a  ninny  at  a  check  that  Fortune  had 
dumped  in  his  lap.  He  had  been  out  on  one  or  two 
occasions  with  Nedda  and  Tony  on  either  side  of 
him  helping  him  walk — it  certainly  got  you  the  way 
you  forgot  how  to  use  your  legs — had  to  be  taught 
all  over  again.  He  was  perfectly  able  to  go  out 
alone,  and  if  he  felt  tired  he  could  hire  a  hack  like 
a  gentleman! 

He  grinned  at  himself  in  the  cracked  glass  on  his 
wall — hire  a  hack! — why,  he  could  buy  a  whole  one 
— coachman  thrown  in  for  good  measure — with  that 
slip  of  green  paper  in  his  hand! 

There  was  no  cab  stand  near  Factory  Street — its 
residents,  except  at  funeral  times,  being  unaccustomed 
to  any  mode  of  transportation  save  by  foot.  But  be- 
fore the  swinging  door  of  a  Factory  Street  saloon 
might  occasionally  be  found  an  old  horse,  hitcheft  to 
its  dingy  wagon,  head  down,  resting  wearily. 

There  was  none  in  sight.  But  at  the  station  Bill 
discovered  a  line  of  them  drawn  up  awaiting  the 
afternoon  train.  He  hailed  one.  He  was  not  sure 
how  one  did  it,  but  he  whistled  and  beckoned,  and 
the  driver  flecked  his  whip  over  the  horse's  thin 


82  The  Road  of  Ambition 

flanks  and  drove  toward  him  at  high  speed.  He 
hesitated  when  he  saw  the  big  man  in  his  rough 
clothing. 

"You  don't  want  a  ride,  do  you?"  he  asked,  sus- 
piciously. Bill  laughed. 

"Sure,  I  do,  partner;  want  to  hire  you  by  the 
hour — maybe  by  the  day — money  ain't  no  object," 
and  he  waved  his  hand. 

The  driver  scowled  and  gathered  up  his  reins. 

"Aw,  cut  the  comedy!"  he  growled;  "I've  lost  my 
place  now  just  on  account  of  you !" 

But  Bill  shook  his  head. 

"I  ain't  stringin'  you.  I  mean  it.  I'm  rich — 
real  money — an'  I  want  you  to  drive  me  to — well, 
I  reckon  to  the  Bethel  bank  first  of  all." 

The  driver  stared  at  him.  "You — to  the  Bethel 
bank!" 

Bill  nodded.  "Sure.  Straight  ahead.  Full  speed." 

He  climbed  in  and  sank  down  on  the  old  cushions 
— the  driver,  still  distrustful,  chirped  to  his  horse, 
and  Big  Bill,  with  a  chuckle,  leaned  back  luxuriously. 
To  spin  along  the  street  on  wheels — to  see  the  pe- 
destrians scurrying  out  of  your  way — to  know  you 
have  enough  money  in  your  pocket  to  pay  a  thousand 
times  over  for  your  pleasure — this  was  life — glo- 
rious— rich — thrilling !  The  driver  drew  up  abrupt- 
ly and  turned  his  head. 

"This  here's  the  bank,"  he  said.  Bill  stepped 
down,  then  he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder. 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  83 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  jiff,"  he  said  with  a  grin. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  the  bank.  The  officials 
had  heard  of  him — had  heard  of  the  foreman  at  the 
Works  who,  rumor  had  it,  would  clean  up  a  big  for- 
tune with  his  process,  and  when  word  spread  that  he 
was  there  the  clerks  hurried  from  their  books  to  peer 
at  him,  whispering  and  snickering.  But  Bill  did  not 
heed  them.  He  was  fingering  the  fresh  notes  which 
had  been  paid  him — fingering  them  with  trembling 
hands.  He  had  never  in  all  his  life  seen  so  much 
money  as  that  which  he  held  in  his  two  fists — green 
crisp. 

"Got  quite  a  pile  there,"  said  the  cashier;  "what 
you  going  to  do  with  it?"  That's  what  Nedda  had 
asked  him — almost  her  words.  Bill  did  not  answer. 
He  could  not  have  spoken  just  then — not  for  the  life 
of  him — something  within  him  welled  up  and  threat- 
ened to  choke  him.  All  the  money  he  wanted — had 
ever  dreamed  of  wanting — what  would  he  do  with  it 
— he'd  show  them ! 

He  stuffed  the  bills  into  his  pockets.  His  cabby 
was  awaiting  him  anxiously.  Bill  waved  a  goldback 
beneath  his  nose. 

"Drive  me  to  Levenstein's  and  maybe  you'll  get 
this!"  he  shouted. 

The  driver  became  action  electrified — he  snapped 
his  whip,  he  clucked  through  his  teeth;  the  horse 
sprang  forward — already  Big  Bill  was  to  learn  the 
power  of  money. 


84  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Levenstein  himself  waited  on  him — little  and  bent 
and  sallow. 

"Something  nice  in  scarfpins?"  he  whined;  "or 
maybe  a  ring,  yes?"  Bill  shook  his  head. 

"No;  none  o'  that  junk,"  said  he.  "Let's  have  a 
look  at  that  sparkler."  He  pointed  to  the  brooch  in 
the  window.  Levenstein  hesitated,  his  eyes  little 
pinpoints  of  shrewdness.  He  concluded  he  could  not 
have  heard  aright. 

"You  mean  dis  von  in  de  case " 

Bill  was  impatient.  "I  mean  the  one  down  in 
front  there — that  daisy " 

Levenstein  shook  his  head.  "Oh!  dat's  not  for 
sale — I  mean,  it's  very  dear — it " 

"I  don't  give  a  shoot  how  much  it  costs,"  Bill 
growled;  "I  want  it,  and  I  want  it  quick!" 

Levenstein  lifted  it  from  its  place  and  laid  it  on  the 
counter.  "I'm  glad  to  show  it  to  you,  sir,  but " 

Bill  drew  out  a  handful  of  bills.  "What's  the 
price?"  he  asked.  Levenstein  sucked  in  his  breath 
and  spread  out  his  hands. 

"Oh,  if  you  pay  cash,  it  vill  be "  he  hesitated. 

"I  know  it's  comin'  steep,"  said  Bill,  easily;  "but 
I'll  take  it  at  any  price." 

When  Levenstein  had  wrapped  it  up  for  him  Bill 
turned  to  go.  But  the  little  Jew,  his  eyes  full  of 
eagerness,  tried  to  keep  him. 

"Chust  a  minute,"  he  pleaded;  "here's  somethin' 
fine " 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  85 

But  Bill  shook  off  his  grip.  "Nothin'  doin',"  he 
said,  gruffly;  then  he  paused.  Beneath  the  glass 
counter  lay  a  bracelet — coiled  snakes — their  two 
heads  of  jade — green,  lustrous. 

"I  like  that,"  said  he  suddenly.  "Let's  see  it." 
But  Levenstein  was  out  for  bigger  game — 

"That  ain't  no  good — chust  imitation  jade — now 
over  here " 

But  Bill  shook  his  head. 

"Ain't  nothin'  else  in  your  whole  joint  I  want  ex- 
cept that." 

Levenstein  lifted  it  out  protestingly  and  laid  it  in 
Bill's  hand. 

"If  you  let  me  show  you  vat  I've  got "  But  Bill 

dropped  it  in  his  pocket. 

"This'll  do,"  he  said,  shortly;  but  his  face  was 
alight  with  eagerness.  "Queer,  ain't  it — that  color?" 
He  paid  Levenstein  and  left  the  shop. 

Nedda,  hurrying  home  from  work,  paused  at  Bill's 
door  and  called  softly.  There  was  no  answer,  and 
she  turned  the  handle,  only  to  fall  back  with  a  cry. 
"He's  gone !"  Tony,  behind  her,  stared  at  the  empty 
room.  She  whirled  on  him:  "We've  got  to  find 
him!"  she  cried;  "he  ain't  fit  to  be  out — he  ain't 
stronger  than  a  baby — go  get  Miss  M'Farlane — 
quick — she  may  know." 

But  Miss  M'Farlane  did  not.  She  returned  with 
Tony,  her  face  pinched  with  anxiety.  "He's  not  well 


86  The  Road  of  Ambition 

by  any  means,"  she  said,  slowly.  Nedda  shook  her 
head. 

"He  hadn't  no  business  to  go  out  alone — he  may 
be  off  his  head  again." 

She  picked  up  the  quilt  he  had  dropped  to  the  floor 
and  an  envelope  fell  from  its  folds.  "Wait  a  min- 
ute," cried  Tony;  "let's  see  it." 

Nedda  looked  over  his  shoulder.  "It's  from  the 
Works,"  she  said.  "I  hope  there  ain't  nothin' 
wrong."  But  Tony  shook  his  head. 

"He'll  turn  up,  all  right." 

She  moved  to  the  window.  It  was  dark  out — a 
misty  night.  The  lamp  at  the  foot  of  Factory  Street 
cast  its  eerie  glow — a  circle  of  light  on  the  damp 
earth.  Nedda  shivered.  Then  she  leaned  forward 
tensely. 

"What's  that?"  They  hurried  to  her  side.  A 
hack  was  turning  the  corner — a  hack  drawn  by  an 
old  white  horse — and  as  it  passed  for  an  instant  be- 
neath the  light  Nedda  gave  a  cry. 

"It's  Bill,"  she  whispered,  "ridin'  in  it  all  by  him- 
self!" 

Tony  whistled.  "Pipe  the  new  overcoat — and  hat 
_and " 

As  the  hack  drew  up  at  the  door  he  turned  to  her 
eagerly : 

"I'll  beat  it  down  and  help  him  up — maybe  you'd 
better  come,  too." 

But  Nedda  did  not  stir  from  her  post  at  the  win- 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  87 

dow.  She  pressed  her  cheek  against  the  pane.  She 
saw  Bill  enter  with  his  arms  full  of  bundles.  Miss 
M'Farlane  fluttered  excitedly  about  the  room. 

"Where'll  he  put  all  the  things?"  she  said;  "do 
you  suppose  his  money  could  have  come?" 

Nedda  shrugged :  "I  don't  know,"  she  said,  dully, 
"I  expect  it  has." 

They  heard  Tony's  shout  as  he  greeted  Bill: 

"Well,  what  are  you  all  dressed  up  for?" 

They  heard  the  shrill  voice  of  the  cabby  thanking 
Bill  again  and  again  for  something — and  then  came 
Bill's  roar: 

"All  ready  for  a  surprise  up  there?  Where's 
Nedda?  Where's  Miss  M'Farlane?" 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Nedda  drew  herself  up 
rather  as  though  she  was  bracing  herself  for  a  shock 
— but  Miss  M'Farlane  ran  to  the  banisters  and 
leaned  over. 

"Tony's  got  his  arms  full  of  parcels,  too,"  she 
cried.  "My!  my!  if  this  isn't  exciting!" 

Nedda  drew  back  when  she  saw  Bill,  but  Tony 
burst  out  eagerly : 

"Hat — shoes — overcoat — suit — ain't  nothin'  that 
ain't  brand-new !  What  do  you  think  of  him?  He's 
a  gent,  now — that's  what  he  is — a  real  gent!" 

Bill  grinned  sheepishly.  "They're  all  right,  ain't 
they?"  he  asked,  anxiously.  Tony  dropped  his  bun- 
dles on  the  table  and  stood  back,  head  cocked  on  one 
side  admiringly.  "Immense,  so  far.  Regular  swell. 


88  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Got  a  check  this  mornin',  and  what  does  he  do  but 
go  right  out  and  blow  himself  good  and  proper." 

Nedda  smiled  through  stiff  lips  at  the  big  man  be- 
fore her — it  was  Bili,  and  yet  it  was  a  stranger,  this 
well-dressed  gentleman.  He  was  speaking:  "And 
I  won't  be  the  only  swell,  either;  open  her  up,  Tony." 

Tony  whipped  out  his  penknife  and  cut  the  strings. 
Miss  M'Farlane  clasped  her  hands :  "Well,  if  it  isn't 
another  overcoat " 

"For  you,  Tony,"  said  Bill;  "ain't  goin'  to  have 
you  freezin'  to  death  this  Winter." 

"For  me!"  gasped  Tony. 

Bill  nodded.  "Try  it  on,"  said  he.  And  Tony 
slipped  his  arms  into  it.  His  pale  face  had  gone  a 
shade  whiter.  "Gee,  Bill,  you  hadn't  ought  to  do 
this." 

Bill  laughed.  "What  do  you  suppose  a  guy  wants 
money  for  unless  he  can?"  he  said.  He  cut  the 
strings  of  another  package.  He  patted  it.  "Yours, 
Miss  M'Farlane,"  he  said. 

She  opened  it  with  shaking  hands:  "What  can 
it  be  ?"  Her  fingers  told  her  before  the  last  fold  fell 
away.  Her  hands  dropped  to  her  sides,  slowly  she 
turned  her  face  toward  Bill.  It  was  aglow  with  eager 
light.  She  spoke  softly : 

"I  won't  have  to  ruin  my  eyes  any  more."  Then, 
without  warning,  she  caught  his  hand  and  pressed 
her  lips  to  it. 

"Say,"   he   growled,    dragging  his   hand   away; 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  89 

"you'd  think  I'd  given  you  a  house  and  lot  instead  of 
a  hand  sewin'  machine !" 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  "To  think  after  wait- 
ing all  these  years "  she  said  at  last. 

"Yes,  an'  it  ain't  the  only  thing  you're  goin'  to  get, 
either,"  he  cried.  "See  how  you  like  this!"  His 
voice  was  exultant,  his  cheeks  flushed.  He  could 
give  them  what  they  wanted  now — these  friends  who 
had  stood  by  him.  He  could  gratify  their  whims. 
He'd  like  to  meet  the  poor  bloke  who  said  money 
was  a  curse — a  curse!  Why,  it  was  the  greatest 
blessing  a  man  could  have — the  only  thing  on  earth 
that  could  give  you  that  feeling  of  almighty  power 
— of  happiness. 

Tony  was  tearing  at  the  wrappings,  holding  up 
the  warm  coat — the  sets  of  furs. 

"I  don't  know  what  all's  there,"  said  Bill;  "I  just 
told  them  to  throw  in  the  stuff  girls  were  strong  for." 
Then  he  turned  to  them  eagerly: 

"To-morrow  we're  goin'  to  celebrate  for  fair — 
every  one  dressed  up — and  dinner  at  a  restaurant — 
no  food-slinger — but  the  real  thing!" 

But  Tony  shook  his  head.  "Aw,  say,  Bill,  we 
wouldn't  know  how  to  act!" 

"Don't  have  to  know  how,"  said  Bill,  "as  long 
as  you  can  pay  the  bill."  Then  he  turned  to  Nedda. 
"I've  got  something  for  you,  too." 

She  came  toward  him.  She  moistened  her  lips.  "I 
wish  you  hadn't  of,"  she  said. 


90  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Bill  laughed.  "You'll  like  it"— and  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  the  box. 

"It's  jewelry!"  cried  Tony.  Miss  M'Farlane 
dropped  the  muff  she  was  stroking  and  ran  to  Ned- 
da's  side.  "Open  it,  quick!" 

But  Nedda  held  it  in  her  hand  and  her  fingers 
closed  over  it.  "I  can't,"  she  said;  "I  just  can't." 

"Let  me,  then,"  said  Bill. 

She  gave  it  to  him,  her  eyes  on  his  face — eager — 
boyish — carried  away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  this  new 
game  he  was  playing — the  game  of  benefactor. 

"It  is  jewelry!"  shouted  Tony.  "It's  from  Leven- 
stein's !"  the  blue  velvet  case  lay  revealed.  Bill  held 
it  out. 

"Go  ahead,"  he  urged.     But  Nedda  shrank  back. 

"I  can't,  Bill — I  can't — you  hadn't  ought  to  have 
got  it  for  me." 

Tony  stared  at  her.  "Are  you  crazy?  Why  don't 
you  open  it  and  see  what  it  is?" 

Bill  pressed  the  spring.  Tony  fell  back  with  a 
cry,  but  Nedda  stood  motionless,  her  bosom  rising 
and  falling  quickly — her  eyes  on  the  sparkling  treas- 
ure in  his  hand.  Bill  smiled  at  her. 

"It's  for  you,"  he  said,  gaily;  "didn't  I  tell  you 
I'd  get  it?" 

Still  she  did  not  move,  and  Tony  jerked  her  elbow 
sharply  "Take  it,"  he  whispered. 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  want  it,"  she  said, 
quickly;  "it's  too  grand  for  me — it's " 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  91 

/ 

"It's  what  I  said  you'd  have — and  what  I  say 
goes!"  grinned  Bill.  He  lifted  it  from  its  bed  of 
white  satin  and  held  it  by  its  chain  of  platinum.  "I'll 
put  it  on  you — come  here." 

She  moved  toward  him  and  lifted  her  chin.  He 
clasped  the  chain  about  her  white  throat  and  let  the 
splendid  cluster  of  diamonds  rest  in  the  hollow  of  her 
neck.  Suddenly  she  caught  his  arm. 

"Bill,"  she  said,  breathlessly;  "Bill,  you  want  me 
to  have  it,  don't  you?" 

"%re,"    he   laughed;    "ain't   I   been   tellin'   you 

J> 

vcr> , 

"Yes;  but — you  want  me  to  have  it  because — be- 
cause— well,  why  do  you?" 

He  was  frankly  puzzled.  "Why  does  any  one 
give  presents  like  that? — first  of  all,  because  I  said 
I  would — and  I  wanted  to  make  good — and  then 
because  I — well — I  knew  it  would  look  great  on  you 
— and  then  because  you  hadn't  never  had  anythin' 
like  that  before — and  I  thought  you  had  ought  to 
have  the  best — I  don't  know  no  other  reasons." 

"Well,"  said  Tony,  "that  ought  to  be  enough  to 
please  anybody!" 

But  Nedda  was  silent,  fingering  the  brooch 
thoughtfully.  Miss  M'Farlane  gathered  up  her  new 
possessions. 

"I'll  get  my  sewin'  done  in  half  the  time,"  she 
said,  eagerly.  "God  bless  you,  Bill."  Tony  picked 
up  her  machine. 


92  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Let  me  carry  it  over  for  you,"  he  said.  He  led 
the  way  into  the  hall,  chatting  eagerly.  Bill  turned 
to  Nedda. 

"It  looks  fine,"  he  said.     She  nodded. 

"It's  beautiful,  Bill — but  I'm  afraid  of  it — I  wish 
I  knew " 

"Knew  what?" 

"Knew  if  you'd  given  it  to  me,  because "  she 

stopped,  her  cheeks  crimson. 

"Ain't  I  told  you  why  I  did?" 

She  nodded;  "Yes — only  you  didn't  say  you  gave 
it  to  me  because — you — liked  me " 

He  stared  at  her.  "Well!  I'll  be  blowed!  I 
don't  need  to  tell  you  that,  do  I  Nedda  ?  Don't  you 
know  you're  the  greatest  pard  a  feller  ever  had? 
Like  you  !  Why,  you  know  blame  well  I  do !" 

She  caught  her  breath.  "Then  I'll  keep  it,  Bill," 
she  said,  "and — I'll  love  it!"  Turning  abruptly,  she 
ran  from  the  room. 

He  drew  off  his  overcoat  and  stroked  its  rough, 
warm  cloth — he  turned  his  new  hat  over.  He  had 
never  hoped  to  possess  a  coat  and  hat  like  these.  He 
dropped  his  hand  in  his  pocket — plenty  of  loose 
change  jingling  through  his  fingers — and  a  soft  roll 
of  bills — and  something  else — what  was  it? — oh, 
yes — the  bracelet.  Queer  color,  that.  He  drew  it 
out — and  gazed  at  it.  Just  the  color  of  a  pair  of  eyes 
— the  eyes  of  the  lady  of  his  dreams.  He'd  keep  it 
just  to  remind  himself  of  her. 


Dawn  of  a  New  Life  93 

Then  he  flung  himself  down  in  his  chair  and 
stretched  luxuriously.  A  hack  was  certainly  the  only 
way  for  a  man  to  travel — he  might  even  take  a  taxi 
some  day — who  could  tell  ? 


CHAPTER  VI 

CARES  OF  THE  RICH 

'HP  HERE  followed  weeks  of  festivities  such  as 
•*•  Nedda  and  Tony  had  never  dreamed  of  seeing 
— as  Miss  M'Farlane  vaguely  remembered  in  a  hazy, 
distant  past.  Dinner  at  the  restaurant  had  not  proved 
altogether  successful — had  been  too  great  a  strain  on 
the  four,  and  it  was  abandoned  after  the  first  at- 
tempt. After  all  Nedda's  cooking  was  better  than 
any  you  could  buy.  But  there  were  rides  and 
theatres.  Nedda's  anxious  fear  lest  he  spend  too 
much  was  quickly  hushed.  What  did  a  fellow  want 
with  money  if  not  to  spend  it!  There  was  plenty 
more  coming — Benson  had  said  so.  And  yet,  with 
all  the  revelry,  with  all  the  exhilaration  of  the  sport, 
something  began  to  go  wrong.  They  had  visited 
Bethel  Parkway — they  had  driven  into  the  country 
— but  Bill  found  himself  suddenly  tired  of  it — that 
was  nonsense,  of  course — one  didn't  get  tired  of 
spending  money — and  yet — if  there  were  only  some- 
thing new  for  a  man  to  do — new  people — new 

places 

He  had  resigned  from  the  Works — resigned  amid 
a  tumult  of  protest — his  men  crowding  about  him  de- 
94 


Cares  of  the  Rich  95 

manding  he  stay — and  he  found  the  time  dragging 
heavily  on  his  hands — you  couldn't  keep  on  buying 
eternally — you  couldn't  always  ride  around  the  coun- 
try with  Nedda  and  Tony  and  Miss  M'Farlane. 
What  the  devil  was  it  he  wanted? 

To  quell  the  rising  restlessness  he  set  out  on  an- 
other exploration  tour  of  the  shops — he  bought  quan- 
tities of  furniture — rugs — pictures — he  would  fix  up 
his  place.  For  a  time  it  amused  him  tremendously — 
Nedda's  ecstatic  joy  at  each  new  treasure  delighted 
him;  her  eager  suggestions  as  to  the  placing  of  them 
— but  when  it  was  finished — when  the  rug  was  laid, 
the  pictures  hung — his  enjoyment  of  it  vanished. 
Queer,  too,  that  it  should  not  please  him — the  best 
stuff  in  Smith's  Furniture  Shop — but  it  didn't.  He 
pondered  over  it,  gazing  at  the  new  buffet,  with  its 
punch  bowl  and  glasses.  Suddenly  he  knew  what 
grated.  It  wasn't  like  Benson's — that  was  it — that 
was  what  he  wanted — something  rich  and  handsome 
— and  homelike — not  this  glaring  oak — these  bla- 
tant lamps — that  table  full  of  glassware — did  a  man 
ever  know  what  it  was  he  desired?  What  under  the 
sun  was  wrong  with  him ! 

He  sought  Nedda.  She  was  making  over  a  dress. 
She  dropped  her  sewing  in  her  lap  when  he  entered, 
her  cheeks  flooded  with  color. 

"Want  to  go  out?"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head.  "Not  to-night,  Bill,  it's  so 
nice  to  sit  here  and  think." 


96  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  moved  restlessly.    "Wish  I  thought  so." 

"Don't  you?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

He  shook  his  head.  "Can't  seem  to  settle  down 
to  nothin'.  Seems  every  morning  when  I  hear  the 
old  whistle  as  if  I  ought  to  hop  out  of  bed  and  be  off 
to  the  Works.  I  hate  to  see  the  men  startin'  out 
— won't  look  at  'em." 

She  smiled.     "You'll  get  over  that." 

"Not  as  long  as  I  stay  here." 

She  looked  up  quickly.  "You  weren't  thinkin'  of 
goin'  away,  were  you?" 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

She  did  not  reply.  He  slipped  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

"Seems  sort  of  queer,  a  feller  like  me  gettin'  what 
he  wants  and  bein'  so  all-fired  sore  about  everythin'. 
Nedda,"  he  said,  suddenly,  "what's  wrong  with  me?" 

She  raised  her  head  and  her  dark  eyes  met  his, 
but  she  did  not  answer  him. 

"Reckon  every  one  feels  this  way  that's  worked  all 
his  life,"  he  went  on.  "Sittin'  'round  twirlin'  your 
thumbs  ain't  no  cinch.  Think  I'll  go  'way  some- 
wheres — only  I  don't  know  where  to  go — and  it 
wouldn't  be  fun — alone !" 

"What  is  it  you  want  to  do?"  she  asked  at  length. 

He  tried  to  put  it  plainly:  "I  want  to  do  big 
things,  and  see  big  places,  and  know  big  people.  I 
reckon  that's  it,  Nedda;  only  I  don't  know  how  to 
go  about  it." 


Cares  of  the  Rich  97 

She  was  silent  a  long  time.  Then  she  straight- 
ened her  shoulders.  "I  suppose  when  you  do,"  she 
said,  "you'll  forget  all  about — us." 

"How  can  I?  Ain't  you  my  best  friends — don't 
I  come  to  you  with  all  my  troubles " 

"You  do — now,"  she  said. 

He  smiled :  "And  always  will.  I'll  get  hold  of  my- 
self soon,  then  it  will  be  clear  sailin'."  He  turned 
toward  the  door.  "Well,  if  you  won't  go  out  I 
reckon  I'd  better  go  alone." 

Sfre  let  him  go.  She  listened  to  his  footsteps, 
growing  fainter,  and  when  they  had  died  away  she 
sat  idly,  the  work  in  her  lap,  her  hands  loosely 
clasped;  then,  with  a  shudder,  she  pushed  the  dress 
away  from  her  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
Tony  found  her  thus,  but  when  he  asked  her  what 
was  wrong  she  did  not  answer.  At  length,  as  he 
persisted,  she  said  it  was  her  eyes — they  were  always 
bad  at  rush  season,  and  she  went  to  her  room. 

When  Bill  received  a  summons  to  appear  at  Ben- 
son's office  he  felt  the  first  thrill  of  returning  in- 
terest. Perhaps  the  chief  had  a  big  job  for  him — 
was  going  to  put  him  to  work  again — was  going  to 
forget  that  he  was  making  money  from  a  process 
which  seemed  to  be  steeped  in  gold. 

He  set  out  eagerly.  He  was  admitted  at  once. 
It  was  good  to  see  the  chief  again.  Benson  held  out 
his  hand. 


98  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"How  goes  it?"  he  inquired. 

Bill  grinned.  "Can't  get  the  hang  of  it  yet,"  he 
said;  "but  reckon  I'll  pull  out  all  right — only  I  wish 
I  had  something  to  do." 

Benson  regarded  him  thoughtfully.  "I  knew  you 
would — I  proposed  to  give  you  three  weeks  of  play 
and  see  what  happened." 

Bill  glanced  up  quickly.  "You  mean  you  doped 
it  all  out  that  I'd  be  sick  of  it  that  soon?" 

Benson  nodded.  "Feeling  kind  of  restless,  weren't 
you  ?  Ready  for  something  else  ?" 

Bill  leaped  up.  "How'd  you  guess  it,  chief?  Holy 
smoke,  I  didn't  think  I  could  stand  it  another  day — 
honest — I've  went  out  and  blowed  myself  to  every- 
thin'  I  ever  wanted — but  it  didn't  do  no  good — 
nothin'  did — and  here  you  are  sizin'  me  up  right  off 
the  bat." 

Benson  smiled.  "Sit  down,  he  said;  "I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you." 

Bill  dropped  in  his  chair. 

"I  once  told  you,"  said  Benson  carefully,  choos- 
ing his  words,  "that  you  would  be  a  very  rich  man." 
Bill  nodded.  "I  didn't  tell  you  how  rich — I  couldn't, 
then;  but  I  can  now.  Bill,  you  will  have  so  much 
money  that  it  would  not  be  safe  for  you  to  be  the  sort 
of  citizen  you  are  at  present." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Bill,  shortly. 

Benson  puffed  his  cigar  in  silence,  then  he  leaned 
forward. 


Cares  of  the  Rich  99 

"I  mean  just  that.  Men  with  fortunes  in  this 
country  must  know  how  to  manage  them — to  meet 
other  rich  men.  Education — that's  it,  Bill,  educa- 
tion." 

"Well!"  he  growled;  "how  can  I  get  it  now?" 

Benson  smiled.  "Men  who  make  a  big  pile  do  it 
as  a  rule  gradually — get  time  to  soak  in  the  things  a 
man  has  to  know;  but  yours  has  come  in  a  rush — and 
left  you  floundering — you've  done  all  you  can  with 
your  money  so  far,  and  yet  you  aren't  satisfied.  Why 
not?  Because  you  want  those  other  things,  too — 
you  want  to  be  one  of  the  big  men,  to  be  able  to 
talk  and  walk  and  act  like  one — why  shouldn't  you? 
You're  a  born  leader." 

Bill  stared  at  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  "all  this  talk 
don't  get  me  nowheres." 

Benson  smiled.  "That's  where  you're  wrong.  I'm 
going  to  undertake  to  make  you  one  of  the  biggest 
figures  in  this  country,  Bill  Matthews!" 

Bill  drew  in  his  breath. 

"I  mean  it,"  Benson  continued;  "I've  watched  you 
sail  ahead  of  other  men  at  the  Works;  I've  watched 
you  boss  big  jobs;  I've  seen  men  jump  to  do  what 
you  tell  them  to.  That  means  you've  got  power, 
Bill — and  power  with  money  is  a  dangerous  thing, 
unless  you  have  education  besides — get  me?" 

Bill  nodded. 

"You're  going  to  put  yourself  in  my  hands  for  a 
period  of  one  year — yes,  I  think  I  can  do  it  by  then. 


10O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

By  the  end  of  that  time  you  are  going  to  be  one  of 
the  men  that  make  history.  I'm  not  saying  this  with- 
out thinking  it  out  first — but  I've  seen  what  you  can 
do,  and  I'm  willing  to  stake  my  last  dollar  on  you." 

Bill  stared  at  him — at  the  big  man  puffing  his 
cigar — tipped  back  in  his  chair  smiling  at  him,  and 
as  he  gazed  he  felt  a  thrill  steal  over  him — his  blood 
pounded  in  his  veins — to  do — to  conquer — to  be 
worthy  of  this  trust  placed  in  him — command  men? 
Of  course  he  could!  A  power — a  money  king — 
that  was  what  this  man  proposed  to  make  him — 
that  was  what  he  had  wanted.  What  a  fool  not  to 
have  guessed  it  long  before.  He  held  out  his  hand. 
"I'm  on,"  he  said,  huskily.  Benson  gripped  it. 

Nedda  heard  the  story  that  he  told  with  stumbling 
haste — heard  it  without  speaking. 

"I'm  goin'  to  Benson's — for  a  while — and 
then " 

"Then — what?"  she  asked,  her  eyes  on  his  face. 

He  caught  her  hands.  "Then  I'm  goin'  to  lick 
the  money  pirates  at  their  own  game — sail  in  and 
show  them  a  thing  or  two.  I'll  make  you  proud  of 
me." 

He  drew  her  after  him  to  his  room.  "You  can 
have  all  this,"  he  said.  "Pictures,  rugs — everything. 
Gee,  Nedda,  to  think  the  Big  Chief  himself  is  goin' 
to  do  this  for  me !" 

"Bill,"  she  said,  breathlessly;  "you  will  come  back 
and  see  us — you  will,  won't  you?" 


Cares  of  the  Rich  101 

He  nodded.  "Sure.  I'll  tell  you  everythin'  that's 
happenin'.  Reckon  I'll  have  to  learn  a  lot,  and  I'll 
teach  it  to  you,  too.  Benson  says  money's  a  re- 
sponsibility. Nedda,  Nedda — that's  what  was 
wrong  with  me — and  I  didn't  know  it — there  I  was 
just  achin'  to  get  into  the  big  game — and  couldn't 
find  the  way." 

"That's  all  you  wanted,  ain't  it,  Bill?" 

He  nodded.  "Everything  in  the  world.  Wasn't 
I  crazy  not  to  know  it." 

"And  there  wasn't  nothing  else  you'd  like  to 
have?" 

"What  else  is  there?"  he  cried.     "Tell  me  that !" 

But  she  did  not  answer.  Instead,  she  moved  to 
the  window,  her  back  to  him. 

"You'll  need  some  new  things,  Bill,"  she  said, 
slowly,  "if  you're  goin'  there.  Suppose  I  make  out 
a  list  for  you." 

"Great  idea !"  he  cried.  "Nedda,  you  sure  are  a 
pal  for  a  feller." 

"Am  I,  Bill?"  she  whispered,  as  she  drew  a  pad 
and  pencil  toward  him. 

He  nodded.  "Now,  then,  what  do  I  need  in  a 
swell  house  like  that?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  half-smile,  as  though  she 
were  about  to  say  something,  but  she  changed  her 
mind. 

"Let's  start  from  the  beginnin',  Bill,"  she  said, 
abruptly,  and  they  set  to  work. 


CHAPTER  VII 
MAY  LARABEE'S  DIPLOMACY 

"DETHEL'S  Old  Families  regarded  the  hilltop 
"^  dwellers  as  Upstarts.  True,  the  Upstarts  lived 
in  palatial  homes,  with  sweeps  of  velvet  lawn  and 
long  avenues  of  trees — but  this,  if  anything,  was  an 
added  count  against  them.  The  Old  Families  could 
never  quite  forgive  them  for  wresting  from  them  the 
wealth  that  was  once  theirs. 

In  the  days  when  Bethel's  swamp  was  first  con- 
verted into  farm  land — -when  the  Works  consisted 
of  a  small  shack  full  of  rusty  machinery — Andrew 
Van  Steer  ruled  the  land.  There  was  no  question 
as  to  his  power  in  the  growing  community.  He 
came  from  the  South,  with  n  formidable  host  of 
ancestors  behind  him;  but  that  did  not  deter  him 
from  marrying  the  daughter  of  Bethel's  innkeeper. 

What  one  needed  in  those  days  was  a  strong, 
healthy  woman — a  woman  able  to  work  side  by  side 
with  you — after  that  she  might  be  pretty — yes,  and 
of  good  birth.  Brains  were  not  essential.  The  man 
of  the  house  did  all  the  thinking  for  the  family. 

But  as  Van  Steer's  wealth  grew  by  leaps  and 
bounds  his  wife  ceased  dressing  in  calico  and  driving 
102 


May  Larabee's  Diplomacy         103 

to  market  behind  a  jogging  old  horse,  and  endeav- 
ored to  recline,  as  though  she  were  accustomed  to 
it,  on  tEe  satin  cushions  of  a  victoria,  behind  the 
smartest  team  of  Kentucky-bred  bays  in  the  country. 

It  was  said  she  acquired  a  certain  amount  of  poise 
— along  with  her  Paris  stays  and  bonnets — but  her 
cleverness  lay  in  never  opening  her  pretty  mouth  in 
public  except  to  say  "yes"  or  "no" — Van  Steer  did 
the  rest  with  an  eloquence  equalled  by  few  and  sur- 
passed by  none. 

Great  days,  those — when  the  old  Van  Steer  house 
was  ablaze  each  night  with  a  thousand  candles — 
when  the  door  swung  wide  to  admit  a  stream  of  gaily 
clad  folk — when  the  swish  of  silk  skirts  whispered 
through  the  long  hallways  and  the  tapping  of  high 
heels  rang  out  on  the  stone  corridors. 

Van  Steer's  dinners  were  famed  throughout  the 
countryside.  It  was  said  that  his  tables  groaned  be- 
neath their  load  of  good  things;  that  his  wine  flowed 
like  water;  certain  it  was  that  Van  Steer,  flushed  and 
triumphant,  would  stagger  to  his  feet,  waving  his 
glass,  and  urging  his  guests  to  stay  as  long  as  they 
chose. 

"Open  house  1"  he  would  cry.  "Open  house — and 
room  for  all!  Eh,  darling?  Room  for  all!"  And 
his  wife,  nodding  and  smiling,  would  whisper  "Yes." 
And  stay  they  did — for  weeks  at  a  time. 

Van  Steer  and  his  shrewd  side-partner,  Wilbur 
Newcomb,  held  the  town  in  the  hollow  of  their 


1O4  The  Road  of  Ambition 

hands,  and  the  second  generation  of  Van  Steers  and 
Newcombs  were  ushered  into  the  world  with  the  pro- 
verbial golden  spoons  in  their  mouths. 

The  Van  Steers  delivered  a  son  to  the  Bench — 
an  impractical  dreamer,  who  had  inherited  his  moth- 
er's golden  gift  of  silence;  who  shrank  with  terror 
from  the  tumult  of  the  great  throbbing  industry  his 
father  loved.  The  boy  stumbled  through  law  school, 
hating  briefs  with  a  passion  only  surpassed  by  his 
father's  indomitable  ambition  for  him. 

As  for  Newcomb's  son — at  an  early  age  he  showed 
signs  of  possessing  all  his  father's  coarseness  and 
none  of  his  brains.  It  was  to  these  two  youths  that 
Bethel  looked  for  a  continuance  of  its  brilliant  social 
life.  But  the  Judge  soon  retired  ingloriously  from 
the  Bench  and  settled  down  to  his  books  and  his  cards 
— quite  content  to  let  the  family  fortune  drip  through 
his  slender,  aristocratic  fingers. 

As  for  young  Newcomb,  he  sold  out  his  interest 
in  the  Works  and  flung  all  the  money  on  the  Street 
in  a  wild  orgy  of  speculation — was  wiped  out  in  the 
course  of  one  memorable  afternoon — and  wound 
up  the  day  by  shooting  himself  before  the  eyes  of 
his  wife  and  two  children. 

It  was  right  there  that  the  First  Families  stepped 
in.  With  an  eye  on  the  Works  as  the  coming  steel 
center  of  the  country,  Cyrus  P.  Colt  and  his  three 
henchmen,  Ellsworth  Decker,  Isaac  Pattison  and  Na- 
thaniel Rogers,  swept  up  what  little  stock  the  Judge 


May  Larabee's  Diplomacy         105 

still  held — assuring  him  it  was  worthless — and  after 
enlarging  the  Works,  proceeded  to  clean  up  a  volume 
of  business  and  swing  gigantic  deals  that  left 
Bethel  gasping,  and  poured  a  shower  of  gold  into 
their  coffers.  It  did  more  than  that — it  earned  for 
them  in  the  world  of  finance  the  name  of  "The  Big 
Four." 

It  was  a  matter  of  pride  with  them  that  they  clung 
to  Bethel — no — they  were  fond  of  assuring  each 
other — flushed  with  their  success — they  were  not 
snobs.  Some  men,  when  they  made  a  pile,  pulled  up 
stakes  and  moved  to  a  colony  of  millionaires — but 
not  they — no,  sir !  Bethel  was  the  place  where  they 
had  made  their  money — and  Bethel  was  good  enough 
for  them  and  theirs!  And  to  prove  their  devotion 
Colt  presented  Colt  Park  to  the  township,  while 
Decker  followed  with  Decker  College,  and  Pattison 
gave  the  stately  Library  and  fountain  which  bore 
his  name.  As  for  Rogers,  he  built  the  Rogers  Me- 
morial Church,  whose  organ  had  the  largest  num- 
ber of  stops  east  of  Salt  Lake. 

And  as  Bethel  grew  and  waxed  exceeding  strong 
its  social  life  became  gayer — madder.  Its  house 
parties  consisted  of  trainloads  of  guests  from  neigh- 
boring cities — gaily-sweatered  folk,  with  nervous, 
high-pitched  voices  and  tired  eyes — and  the  music  of 
the  First  Families'  dances  lasted  until  late  into  the 
mornings. 

With  its  social  life,  its  financial  life  grew — the 


lo6  The  Road  of  Ambition 

controllers  of  great  industries  joined  their  women 
folk  for  week-ends  and  left  them  to  their  own  de- 
vices, while  they  smoked  the  Big  Four's  cigars  and 
lounged  in  their  deep  leather  chairs,  thrashing  out 
the  cornering  of  a  stock,  the  purchase  of  a  railroad, 
the  crushing  of  a  competitor — to  the  faint  strains  of 
a  waltz,  or  to  the  laughter  of  young  voices. 

And,  like  a  dank  weed  springing  up  in  soil  too 
rich — a  political  life  crept  into  Bethel.  There  were 
twenty  thousand  voters.  They  might  swing  the  State 
in  any  election — a  big  factor — and  there  were  rich 
men  standing  ready  to  back  a  party  which  offered 
enough  inducements — until  at  last  the  Boss  himself 
— Dugan,  the  man  who  ruled  the  party — found  his 
way  there. 

He  lived  very  quietly  in  a  rambling  old  house  set 
back  from  the  road — but  his  great,  pudgy  fingers 
were  ever  on  the  pulse  of  his  Party — sensing  every 
throb — prescribing  for  every  ill — curing  or  killing 
as  he  saw  fit.  He  was  occasionally  seen  at  the  tables 
of  the  Big  Four,  but  more  often  on  Bethel's  links, 
serenely  pursuing  a  little  white  ball.  Never  talked 
much,  did  Dugan — didn't  have  to — a  citizen  whom 
the  Big  Four's  wives  heartily  detested  as  an  out- 
sider who  dared  know  too  much — but  whom  they 
feared  too  greatly  to  offend. 

Socially  and  financially  Bethel  was  on  the  map — 
Dugan's  being  there  put  it  on  politically — in  big 
letters. 


May  Larabee's  Diplomacy         107 

Wilbur  Newcomb's  grandson,  Monty,  still  lived 
in  Bethel.  Not  in  the  old  house,  though — that  had 
been  torn  down  to  build  Bethel  Inn — but  in  an  ob- 
scure little  cottage,  half  way  up  the  hill,  Monty 
existed  on  past  glories.  He  seemed  to  have  been 
born  hating  all  people  of  means.  He  lived  over  the 
days  his  father  had  told  him  about — the  days  when 
the  name  of  Newcomb  was  a  signal  for  the  turning 
of  heads  and  craning  of  necks.  Monty  had  gone 
through  forty  years  in  this  manner. 

He  was  able  to  foster  his  dislikes  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  other  forms  of  labor  by  the  aid  of  a  slender  in- 
come from  some  timber  lands  which  Newcomb  pere, 
in  his  mad  fever  of  speculation,  had  entirely  over- 
looked and  neglected  to  sell. 

Once  or  twice  Monty  had  roused  himself  to  the 
point  of  beginning  a  biography  of  his  paternal  grand- 
father— had  even  sharpened  pencils  and  laid  in  a 
supply  of  paper  for  the  Herculean  task;  but  his  sis- 
ter discouraged  him. 

"Grandfather  was  a  mighty  rough  specimen,"  she 
assured  him.  "Brains,  yes ;  culture,  no !  I  remember 
him  well;  used  to  swear  more  in  one  minute  than 
any  other  man  in  a  hundred  years.  Better  leave 
his  history  unwritten — too  many  people  in  this  part 
of  the  country  know  too  much  about  it." 

May,  along  with  the  Newcomb  nose  and  feet,  had 
inherited  all  the  brusqueness  of  her  father's  side  of 
the  house ;  but  unlike  Monty,  she  did  not  hate  wealth, 


io8  The  Road  of  Ambition 

she  courted  it — prayed  for  it — determined  grimly 
to  go  out  after  it  and  get  it  by  hook  or  crook. 

She  would  stare  in  the  mirror  at  her  sharp  little 
face  for  hours  at  a  time. 

"Not  bad,"  she  would  say.  "If  I  didn't  look  so 
much  like  a  fox!" 

She  had  married  Jim  Larabee — a  man  twenty 
years  older  than  herself — only  to  discover  that  the 
money  he  had  told  her  about  was  not  his — that  as 
his  wife  she  would  be  even  more  wretchedly  hard 
up  than  before.  She  did  not  hesitate.  She  left  him 
inside  of  a  week.  Later,  when  he  inherited  a  for- 
tune, she  endeavored  to  make  it  up,  but  he  refused 
to  see  her,  and  shortly  afterward  died,  having  willed 
every  penny  to  the  monastery  of  St.  Ignatius — 
"which,"  he  added  spitefully  in  that  biting  docu- 
ment, "is  at  least  one  place  where  a  man  can  be  sure 
his  money  will  not  be  squandered  on  the  Useless  Sex." 

"I  was  a  fool  once,"  she  remarked  bitterly  at  the 
time ;  "but  if  I  ever  get  my  two  hands  on  money  again 
they'll  have  to  kill  me  first  to  rescue  it!" 

The  brother  and  sister  lived  in  the  little  house  she 
had  coaxed  Monty  to  buy,  hoping  against  hope  that 
the  First  Families  would  take  her  up  and  that  she 
might  thereby  improve  her  chances — but  they  had 
not,  although  for  a  time  Colt's  only  son  and  heir, 
Philip,  took  to  dropping  in  on  his  way  to  and  from 
the  center.  He  even  got  to  the  point  of  confiding 
his  follies  to  her  when  his  father  learned  of  his  calls 


May  Larabee's  Diplomacy         109 

and  forbade  him  to  put  his  foot  in  Newcomb's  house. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  want  you  to  get  mixed  up  with 
that  blood'!"  he  thundered;  "if  you  must  go  making 
a  fool  of  yourself  over  the  Old  Families  in  this  town 
run  after  Van  Steer's  daughter — at  least  there's 
breeding  there!" 

That  ended  May's  chances  as  far  as  the  First  Fam- 
ilies were  concerned.  As  for  Monty,  he  grew  more 
sullen  and  difficult  to  live  with  day  by  day,  and  her 
daring  gowns  became  a  trifle  shabby,  while  the  New- 
comb  feet,  of  which  she  was  inordinately  proud,  were 
clad  in  oft-resoled  shoes. 

And  then,  at  the  ebb  of  their  fortunes,  when 
Monty  had  been  unusually  trying  and  fretful —  when 
she  had  been  forced  to  contemplate  selling  a  vase  or 
two  to  make  her  Winter  wardrobe  presentable,  Ben- 
son, manager  of  the  Works,  stopped  his  car  before 
their  door  and  asked  to  see  her  brother. 

May  heard  the  big  red  roadster  chugging  at  the 
curb  and  her  heart  leaped  with  hope.  She  hid  be- 
hind the  portieres  to  better  catch  what  he  was  say- 
ing. She  knew  Monty  would  make  a  fool  of  himself 
if  it  came  to  a  proposition  that  required  an  answer, 
and  it  was  just  as  well  that  she  be  within  listening 
distance. 

Monty,  in  a  saffron  dressing  gown,  received  Ben- 
son. He  liked  Benson  as  an  efficient  employee,  who 
respected  him  as  the  grandson  of  a  great  man.  He 
bowed  him  into  a  chair.  Benson  smiled  at  him. 


no  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Well,  Mr.  Newcomb,  how  goes  it?" 

There  was  really  no  need  to  inquire.  One  had 
only  to  glance  at  the  patched  curtains,  the  faded 
rugs,  the  general  air  of  decadence,  but  Monty  flicked 
the  ash  from  his  cigarette  and  crossed  his  knee. 

"Splendid,  Benson;  never  better.  What  would 
you  expect?" 

Benson  nodded.    "Glad  to  hear  it." 

There  was  a  pause.  Benson  was  very  evidently 
struggling  to  say  something — was  not  exactly  sure 
how  best  to  begin.  Newcomb  waited  indifferently. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Benson,  clearing  his  voice; 
"have  you  heard  about  Big  Bill  Matthews?" 

Newcomb  raised  his  eyebrows.  "Really,  I  don't 
think  so,"  said  he,  wrinkling  his  forehead.  "Who  is 
he?" 

Benson  smiled.  "Every  one's  talking  about  him. 
You  know,  the  foreman  at  the  Works,  who  played 
around  with  scale  until  he  found  a  process  to  turn 
it  back  into  steel." 

Monty  nodded.  "Sure  enough.  Did  hear  some- 
thing about  him.  Quite  remarkable,  wasn't  it?" 

Benson  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair.  "Remarkable  isn't  the  word — stupendous! 
The  man's  made  a  pile  already,  but  that's  nothing  to 
what  he's  going  to  make  1  He's  slated  to  clean  up 
a  fortune  or  I  lose  my  bet!" 

Monty's  thin  lips  compressed.  "A  fortune,  eh? 
A  laborer?" 


May  Larabee's  Diplomacy         ill 

Benson  nodded.  "More  money  than  he  knew  was 
in  the  world.  Think  of  that,  will  you!  A  fellow 
who  has  worked  for  us  since  he  was  a  boy — and  he 
can  buy  and  sell  most  of  us  now !" 

A  note  in  Benson's  voice  irritated  Monty.  It  was 
as  though  he  were  trying  to  rouse  some  sort  of  en- 
thusiasm for  this  man  who  had  by  some  lucky  twist 
stumbled  upon  a  fortune  he  was  wholly  unfit  and  in- 
capable of  managing — a  fortune  that  Monty,  as  a 
Newcomb,  knew  he  was  essentially  qualified  to 
handle  with  dexterity  and  skill.  Most  annoying, 
those  things — always  happening,  though.  He 
shrugged  and  dismissed  the  subject. 

"And  how  are  things  going  with  you,  Benson?" 
he  inquired  generously.  Benson  must  not  be  made  to 
feel  that  he  was  an  inferior.  Good  brain  there — fine 
superintendent — just  the  man  for  the  place. 

But  Benson  was  growing  red — actually  stammer- 
ing his  embarrassment. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Newcomb,"  he  exploded;  "I'm 
going  to  come  right  out  with  it!" 

Newcomb  turned  to  survey  him.  "Really,  Mr. 
Benson,  I  don't  understand  you.  Come  out  with 
what?" 

"With  my  reason  for  calling,"  he  said;  "for  speak- 
ing about  this  man,  Bill  Matthews." 

"I  can't  see,"  said  Monty  shortly,  "what  this  man 
can  have  to  do  with  your  coming  to  see  me." 

Benson  gripped  the  arms  of  his  chair.     "It's  this 


112  The  Road  of  Ambition 

way:  Matthews  will  have  a  lot  of  money — it  may 
run  up  into  the  millions.  He  hasn't  had  much  school- 
ing. He  can't  even  talk  correctly;  but  he's  a  tre- 
mendous force — a  tremendous  power.  The  boys 
under  him  recognized  it  and  worked  like  slaves  for 
him.  We  men  higher  up  saw  it  and  promoted  him. 
Now,  then,  with  all  this  power  and  all  this  wealth 
I'm  afraid  he'll  run  amuck  unless  he  has  the  train- 
ing necessary  to  a  man  of  means  and " 

But  Monty  had  risen.  "I'm  sorry  to  cut  this 
short,  Mr.  Benson,"  he  said,  "but  the  man's  welfare 
is  of  no  faintest  interest  to  me — none  whatever. 
Men  of  that  calibre  are  most  distasteful  to  me — can't 
talk  of  them — boors.  If  you  want  some  one's  advice 
as  to  what  to  do  with  him,  I  would  suggest  you  go 
elsewhere — my  time " 

"I  don't  want  anyone  else's  advice,"  said  Benson, 
with  a  dogged  persistence,  though  the  red  stained 
his  face,  "I  want  yours — I  want  to  know  if  you  will 
undertake  making  this  man  into  a  gentleman " 

"If  I "  Monty  choked  with  an  anger  he 

scarcely  knew  he  was  capable  of  feeling.  "If  I — 
the  grandson  of  Wilbur  Newcomb — will  undertake 
the  education  of  a  laborer " 

"Wait  just  a  moment,"  pleaded  Benson.  "The 
man  has  fine  instincts — he's  clever;  he's  eager  to 
learn;  I  haven't  time  or  I'd  take  him  in  hand  myself; 
but  since  I  can't,  he's  willing  to  pay  any  amount  you 
name,  if  you  will " 


May  Larabee's  Diplomacy         113 

Monty's  face  was  livid.  "Payl"  he  shrieked. 
"Pay !  And  you  think  that  for  his  dirty,  miserable 
roll  of  bills  he  can  buy  what  I " 

This  was  May's  cue,  and  dashing  back  the  cur- 
tain she  entered  breezily. 

"Mr.  Benson,"  she  cried,  with  outstretched  hand, 
"how  delightful !" 

Monty  stared  at  her  suspiciously,  then  straight- 
ened up. 

"Mr.  Benson  and  I,"  he  snapped  through  white 
lips,  "are  concluding  a  little  interview — you  will  ex- 
cuse us " 

But  May  shook  her  head.  "Indeed  not,"  she 
said  gaily;  "for  I  couldn't  help  hearing  part  of 
what  he  said  as  I  came  through  the  other  room — 
you  shouted  so,  Monty,  dear — and  I  do  think  it's  a 
most  charming  idea  of  Mr.  Benson's " 

"Charming  idea!"  cried  Monty;  "charming  idea 
,  M 

"To  educate  a  millionaire  in  the  rough — think  of 
moulding  a  man  of  the  people " 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  saying,"  Monty 
ripped  out.  But  she  nodded: 

"Indeed  I  do — and  I  consider  it  very  nice  of  Mr. 
Benson  to  think  of  us  in  this  matter — oh,  it's  no  use 
raving,  Monty,"  she  laughed,  as  he  opened  his  mouth 
to  protest.  "It  would  be  perfectly  ridiculous  to  pre- 
tend in  this  town,  where  every  last  person  knows  us, 
that  we  had  a  cent  of  money — and  that  we  should  not 


114  The  Road  of  Ambition 

be  grateful  for  Mr.  Matthews'  bounty  in  return  for 
— shall  I  say  social  polish?" 

Benson  turned  to  her.  "At  least,  think  it  over," 
he  said. 

She  held  out  her  hand.  "Think  it  over — nothing ! 
Consider  it  settled.  Monty'll  calm  down  once  you're 
gone,"  and  she  followed  him  to  the  door.  "I'll  write 
you  when  he  may  come,"  she  whispered  as  he  left 
her. 

Monty  awaited  her  with  blazing  eyes. 

"How  dared  you "  he  breathed,  but  she 

snapped  her  fingers. 

"Nonsense,  Monty — save  your  temper  for  some 
one  who  will  be  properly  impressed.  I'm  on  my 
way  to  look  over  the  house  linen  so  that  Mr.  Mat- 
thews' room  will  be  in  the  pink  of  condition  for 
him." 

"You  mean  that  you'll  have  that — that — factory 
hand  sleeping  in  our  beds — eating  at  our  table " 

"I'll  do  more  than  that,"  said  May,  her  foot  on 
the  stairs;  "I'll  marry  him " 

"Marry  him!"  gasped  Monty.     She  laughed. 

"Oh,  not  until  he's  well  able  to  write,  dear — until 
he  can  sign  checks  without  a  quiver — don't  worry 
about  that!"  and  she  ran  up  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FORTUNE  RESHAPES  THREE  LIVES 

T>  ILL  arrived  on  an  afternoon  when  Monty  was 
•*-*  out.  May  arranged  that.  She  also  arranged 
a  fragrant  wood  fire  that  leaped  in  the  grate — in- 
deed, in  the  warm,  red  glow  of  the  flames  the  shabby 
little  room  appeared  quite  cheerful  and  cozy. 

She  had  dressed  with  infinite  care  in  a  close-fitting 
black  gown — a  gown  that  emphasized  her  slender- 
ness,  and  she  had  slipped  her  feet  into  her  one  re- 
maining pair  of  black  satin  slippers.  Behind  her 
chair  a  basket  of  American  Beauties  reared  their 
splendid  heads — she  was  perfectly  conscious  of  the 
rich  background  the  flowers  afforded  her  dark  little 
face. 

At  four-thirty  the  bell  rang.  She  dropped  down 
in  the  low  rocker  close  to  the  fire  and  drew  toward 
her  the  tea  table,  lighted  the  wick  beneath  the  cop- 
per kettle  and  signalled  her  maid  to  open  the  door. 

She  heard  the  rumble  of  men's  voices — the  maid's 
low  replies — and  she  turned  to  greet  them.  But  she 
was  not  prepared  for  the  great  bronzed  giant  who 
followed  Benson  into  the  room — no — she  had  never 
dreamed  he  would  look  like  that — that  his  head 


1 1 6  The  Road  of  Ambition 

would  be  so  fine,  his  eyes  so  deep  set — his  mouth  so 
splendid — his  shoulders  so  broad.  Benson  might 
have  told  her.  She  gathered  herself  together  and 
held  out  her  hand 

"Well,"  she  said,  smiling,  because  she  knew  her 
teeth  were  extremely  pretty  and  well-shaped;  "so 
you've  come  at  last." 

Benson  caught  her  hand  and  turned  to  Bill — 
"This  is  Newcomb's  sister,  Bill —  This  is  Mrs.  Lara- 
bee."  But  Bill  was  staring  at  her — rather  as  though 
he  were  examining  a  work  of  art — a  rare  painting — 
this  little,  dark  woman,  with  her  gown  whipped  close 
about  her  form — with  her  white  hands  and  smiling 
lips — this  was  the  sort  of  woman  he  was  henceforth 
to  know.  From  now  on  he  would  meet  only  women 
whose  voices  were  soft  and  rich — whose  manner  was 
one  of  utmost  ease  and  elegance.  At  Benson's  nudge 
he  rubbed  his  hand  on  his  coat  and  held  it  out. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  ma'am,"  and  his  hand  closed 
over  hers. 

"Sit  here,"  she  said  to  Bill,  and  he  dropped  obedi- 
ently into  the  chair  beside  her,  endeavoring  not  to 
gaze  too  hard  at  her — at  the  tiny  feet,  no  bigger 
than  a  man's  fist,  thrust  out  beneath  the  hem  of  her 
skirt — at  the  flowers  behind  her.  Great,  those — 
must  have  cost  a  penny — they  were  the  kind  you  saw 
in  the  florists'  windows — roses — that  was  it — roses. 
She  followed  his  gaze. 

"You  like  them?"  she  asked. 


Fortune  Reshapes  Three  Lives     117 

He  nodded.  "Sure,"  he  said,  then  wondered  what 
one  did  with  one's  hands,  if  it  were  not  gentlemanly 
to  slip  them  in  one's  pockets.  But  he  forgot  his  hands 
in  listening  to  the  music  of  her  voice  as  she  chatted 
with  Benson. 

"I  almost  gave  you  up — it  was  growing  so  dark 
— doesn't  it  grow  dark  early  these  days,  Mr.  Mat- 
thews? But  then  I  knew  you  would  have  called  me 
up  if  you  hadn't  been  coming.  Tea,  Mr.  Matthews?" 

Bill  moistened  his  lips.  "No,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "I 
guess  not." 

She  was  all  regret.  "You  don't  like  it?  How 
stupid  of  me.  You  like  something  stronger.  There, 
I  know  you  do!" 

But  Bill  protested:  "Don't  want  nothin',  ma'am; 
just  had  a  big  feed — I  mean  lunch — Mr.  Benson,  he 
blew  me." 

She  laughed.  "So  that's  why  you're  not  hungry. 
Very  well,  but  you  won't  mind  watching  us  eat, 
will  you?" 

Mind  watching  her!  He  could  hardly  tear  his 
eyes  from  her — he  was  completely  captivated  by  the 
skillful  manner  in  which  she  handled  the  teapot,  the 
fragile  cups.  At  last,  she  leaned  back. 

"So  you're  going  to  stay  with  us  awhile,  Mr.  Mat- 
thews?" 

He  hesitated.  "I'd  a  great  deal  rather  you  called 
me  Bill,  ma'am,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you — that  Mr. 
Matthews'  stuff  don't  sound  real  to  me." 


ii8  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  smiled.  "I'd  a  great  deal  rather  call  you 
Bill,"  she  nodded.  "Now,  then,  Bill,  you're  going 
to  teach  us  some  things  we  don't  know,  and  in  ex- 
change we  are  going  to  teach  you  some  things  we  do 
know — is  that  it?" 

He  shook  his  head,  puzzled.  "Teach  you  things? 
There  ain't  nothin'  I  could  teach  you " 

She  laughed.  "Oh,  yes,  there  is.  Just  heaps.  You 
can  teach  me  about  the  Works  and  the  men — I've 
always  wanted  to  know  a  great  deal  more  about 
them — you  see,  my  grandfather  was  a  business  man, 
and  ever  since  I  can  remember  I've  wished  I'd  been 
born  a  boy  instead  of  a  girl.  Then  I  could  have 
rolled  up  my  sleeves  and  gone  to  work." 

Bill  looked  at  her  admiringly — at  the  round  white 
arms,  veiled  by  a  film  of  chiffon.  He  shook  his  head. 

"Hadn't  ought  to  be  sorry,"  he  said  at  last,  "bein* 
a  girl  just  about  seems  to  suit  you." 

"I  only  wish  I  had  had  Monty's  chances,"  and 
she  sighed.  Suddenly  she  turned  to  Bill  and  leaned 
toward  him  confidentially.  "You  musn't  mind, 
Monty,"  she  said.  "Mr.  Benson  may  have  told  you 
what  an  old  bear  he  is — he'll  probably  say  the  most 
dreadful  things  to  you,  but  he  doesn't  mean  them — 
not  a  word  of  them." 

Benson  smiled.    "I've  prepared  him,"  he  said. 

Bill  nodded.  "I  don't  scare  easy,"  he  grinned, 
"reckon  I'll  take  him  as  he  comes.  It's  mighty  nice 
of  him  to  have  a  rough  like  me  mussin'  up  his  house." 


Fortune  Reshapes  Three  Lives     lie, 

May  smiled  at  him.  "We're  going  to  love  having 
you  here,"  she  said  as  Benson  rose. 

"It  looks  as  though  I  were  leaving  you  in  safe 
hands,  Bill,"  he  said.  Bill  nodded.  "I  reckon  I'll 
make  out  first  rate." 

After  Benson  had  gone,  May  led  the  way  to  the 
library  and  flung  herself  on  a  chaise  lounge,  a  pile 
of  pillows  under  her  tiny  head. 

"Now  then,  Bill,"  she  said,  leaning  her  chin  on 
her  hand,  "let's  talk." 

She  looked  very  charming  in  the  dim  light,  the 
fire's  red  glow  on  her  slender  body,  her  face  half  in 
shadow. 

"I'd  a  heap  rather  look,"  he  said,  blushing  at  his 
own  daring,  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"No — talk.  Or  at  least  I'm  going  to,  for  Mon- 
ty'll  be  here  any  minute.  Of  course  you  understand, 
Bill,  that  this  is  something  we  have  never  done  for 
any  other  person." 

He  nodded.  "I  figure  you'll  be  glad  to  back  out 
of  it  in  no  time." 

She  smiled  at  him.  "I  don't  believe  so,  but  it's 
going  to  be  hard  at  first.  Hard  for  you  to  take  the 
criticism — hard  for  us  to  offer  it,  but  it  will  be  worth 
it  in  the  end — and  you'll  learn  so  quickly — why,  even 
since  you've  been  in  this  room  you've  unconsciously 
caught  Mr.  Benson's  manner.  When  you  first  came 
in  you  were  nervous  and  ill  at  ease,  weren't  you?  I 
knew  it  by  the  way  you  moved  your  hands  and  sat 


12O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

on  the  edge  of  your  chair,  then  you  watched  him  and 
saw  that  the  thing  to  do  was  to  lean  back  and  cross 
your  knees  and  fold  your  arms — and  here  you  are 
doing  it!" 

He  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  "Holy  Jiminy !  How  did 
you  figure  all  that  out?" 

She  laughed.  "I  was  watching  you  and  I  saw. 
That  was  right,  Bill.  That  told  me  that  you  had  a 
mind — a  quick  one.  Oh,  teaching  you  is  going  to  be 
great  fun — I  wonder  if  you'll  enjoy  teaching  me  as 
well." 

He  caught  his  breath.  "You  make  a  man  feel  so 
ding-fired  easy,"  he  grinned.  "I  guess  that's  part 
of  bein'  a  lady.  ..." 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "Nonsense.  It's  just 
that  I  like  you  and  that  we're  going  to  be  good 
friends.  Now  then,  tell  me  when  you  began  working 
at  the  factory." 

And  he  found  himself,  before  he  knew  it,  unfold- 
ing his  life  to  her — his  vague  hopes  and  ambitions — 
his  desire  to  help  the  men  who  had  worked  for  him 
— to  better  their  condition — things  he  had  never 
breathed  aloud  before — had  scarcely  defined  to  him- 
self. He  did  not  reckon  time,  he  was  conscious  only 
of  the  hope  that  the  dim  firelight  would  last — that 
he  might  see  the  quick  curve  of  her  lips  when  she 
smiled — the  warm  flash  of  her  eyes.  He  told  her  all 
his  dreams — dreams  that  were  rudely  shattered  by 
a  man's  voice. 


Fortune  Reshapes  Three  Lives     121 

"Well,"  it  drawled,  "has  your  laborer  turned  up 
yet?" 

It  was  Monty. 

May  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Mr.  Matthews  has 
come  .  .  ."  she  said  quickly.  Monty  switched  on 
the  light.  Bill  rose  slowly  and  faced  him — took  in 
at  a  glance  the  sallow,  nervous  face — with  a  tracery 
of  blue  veins  on  the  forehead — the  light  eyes,  the 
lips  as  colorless  as  marble.  He  caught  the  curt  nod 
and  grinned. 

"I'm  here  all  right,"  he  said,  suddenly  at  ease. 
After  all  that  little  pup — gentleman  or  no  gentle- 
man— could  not  tell  him  what  was  what  and  get 
away  with  it.  "Howdy." 

May  sprang  between  them.  "I'll  ring  for  tea.  I'm 
sure  you're  starving,  Monty,"  she  said  swiftly.  Her 
brother  shook  his  head,  his  eyes  still  on  the  man  be- 
fore him. 

"Don't  want  anything.  Going  to  my  room.  Send 
up  my  dinner,"  and  he  turned  on  his  heel. 

"Monty,"  she  cried,  and  her  voice  was  close  to 
tears,  "Monty — I  wish  you'd  wait — I  want  you  to 
hear  what  Mr.  Matthews  has  to  say  about " 

But  Monty  cut  her  short,  "Business  to  attend  to. 
Very  sorry.  You'll  excuse  me,"  and  he  was  gone. 
May  faced  Bill  with  flaming  cheeks. 

"You  see,"  she  cried,  "he  makes  everything  im- 
possible!" 

But  Bill  was  smiling.     "Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he 


122  The  Road  of  Ambition 

said  slowly,  "if  he  don't  want  to  parley  with  me,  I 
reckon  I'm  satisfied  as  long  as  you  ain't  backin1  out  of 
the  bargain." 

She  moved  toward  him;  she  laid  her  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"How  can  I  thank  you?"  she  said  softly;  "you 
don't  know  how  hard  my  life  has  been  with  him — 
he  is  always  like  that.  ...  I  am  glad  you  have 
come." 

Bill  smiled  at  her.     "So  am  I,"  said  he. 

He  did  not  sleep  well  that  night.  He  lay  in  a  bed 
of  delicious  softness,  between  sheets  that  felt  like 
satin — sheets  about  which  hung  a  faint  fragrance 
which  reminded  him  of  May  Larabee.  He  closed  his 
eyes  and  tried  to  conjure  up  a  picture  of  her  as  she 
had  looked  in  the  firelight,  but  he  could  not,  and  at 
length  he  rose  and  drew  a  chair  close  to  the  window. 

Outside  a  sharp  frost  lay  like  a  veil  of  snow  on 
tree  and  shrub.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he  thought 
of  the  view  from  Factory  Street — the  rubbish  heap 

— the  corner  saloon — the  cobble  stones He 

had  no  trouble  in  calling  those  scenes  to  his  mind — 
they  were  stamped  there  indelibly.  With  a  shudder 
he  turned  back  to  the  room  in  which  he  sat — soft  rugs 
— tinted  walls — vases  of  flowers.  He  was  there  to 
stay,  too — it  was  not  just  for  a  night — no — it  was 
to  go  on  and  on  and  other  wonders  were  to  come — 
wonders  he  had  never  dreamed  of  possessing. 

He  was  to  learn  to  talk  like  these  people — to  be 


Fortune  Reshapes  Three  Lives     123 

one  of  them — no,  more  than  that,  he  was  to 
become  the  friend  of  the  little  dark  woman  who 
had  confided  her  loneliness — her  unhappiness  to 
him.  .  .  .  What  would  Nedda  say  to  all  this? 
Nedda.  ...  I  He  stopped  short.  He  had  not 
thought  of  her  since  the  day  he  had  left  them  all — 
since  the  day  he  had  driven  away  in  Benson's  car. 
He  remembered  her  now — how  little  and  white 
she  had  looked — how  bravely  her  lips  had 
smiled.  He  wondered  if  she  missed  him — after  all, 
he  reflected,  she  had  Tony — she  would  soon  forget 
him.  .  .  .  He  turned  back  to  his  bed.  He  stroked 
the  pillows — the  soft  quilt — "and  it's  only  the  begin- 
ning," he  told  himself  as  he  crept  beneath  the  covers. 

May  had  followed  her  brother  to  his  room.  She 
shut  the  door  carefully  behind  her  and  stood  with 
her  back  to  it. 

"The  next  time  you  make  such  a  fool  of  yourself, 
Monty,"  she  snapped,  "I'll  spoil  your  whole  game 
by  clearing  out  for  good — do  you  hear  me?" 

He  dropped  the  book  he  was  reading  and  stared  at 
her — a  little  white  fury,  with  clenched  hands. 

"And  you  know  what  that'll  mean — your  income 
cut  in  half — in  half — what'll  you  live  on  then?  Tell 
me  that.  You'll  have  to  blow  out  your  brains  just  as 
papa  did — there  won't  be  anything  else  for  you  to 
do !  Either  you  treat  this  man  decently  or  I  leave — 
and  when  I  go  I  won't  come  back!" 

Monty  yawned.     "Trot  along  to  bed,"  he  said, 


124  The  Road  of  Ambition 

stretching.  "You've  had  your  way,  haven't  you? 
Your  foreman  is  sleeping  in  the  guest  room — you've 
made  us  the  laughing  stock  of  Bethel — what  more 
do  you  want?" 

She  moved  toward  him.  "You  know  what  I 
want,"  she  said  through  her  teeth.  "I  want  you  to 
treat  him  properly  or  I'll  do  as  I  say — as  for  Bethel 
knowing — who  gives  a  hang  for  us  or  for  what  we 
do?  But  they  will  care  when  I  bring  him  backl" 

"Bring  him  back?" 

She  nodded. 

"I'm  going  to  travel  first — anywheres — every- 
wheres — see  things — places — people — spend  money 
— throw  it  away.  .  .  .  Don't  you  suppose  I  want 
to  get  out  of  this  hole?  Well,  here's  my  chance  to 
do  it — and  yours,  too.  Are  you  going  to  take  it  or 
are  you  going  to  act  like  a  fool  and  lose  what  little 
you  have?" 

He  gazed  at  her  thoughtfully.  "Suppose  I'll  have 
to  come  around,"  he  said  at  last,  "anything  for 
peace  sake.  Now,  do  clear  out  and  let  me  read." 

She  left  him.  Once  outside  the  door,  she  raised 
her  voice — it  was  soft  and  tender. 

"Good  night,  Monty  dear,"  she  whispered. 
"Don't  read  too  late,  will  you? — you  know  you 
haven't  been  well.  ..." 

Monty  sneered,  but  Bill  hearing,  opened  his  eyes. 
Great  little  woman  that!  She  was  going  to  be  his 
friend.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he  turned  over. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   EDUCATION   OF    "BIG   BILL" 

AY  found  her  heaven  on  earth  sooner  than  she 
expected.  It  was  New  York.  The  Newcomb 
fortune  had  dwindled  before  she  was  old  enough 
to  travel,  and  while  all  Bethel  was  in  the  habit  of 
flying  to  the  great  metropolis  for  its  holidays.  May 
had  been  forced  to  remain  at  home.  So  this,  her 
first  taste  of  real  metropolitan  life,  was  exhilarating 
to  the  point  of  intoxication.  The  lights — the  bustle 
— the  noise — thrilled  and  entranced  her — the  allur- 
ing shop  windows — the  parade  of  fashion — stimu- 
lated her  like  wine.  She  determined  to  lift  the  cup 
and  drink  deeply  ere  it  be  snatched  away. 

She  decided  after  a  brief  survey  of  hotels,  to  take 
a  small  apartment.  It  was  better  to  keep  Bill  away 
from  the  women  who  turned  on  the  street  and  in  the 
lobbies  to  gaze  after  him.  Hotels,  she  concluded, 
were  not  safe.  Monty  had  become  quite  manage- 
able. The  new  sport  of  having  enough  loose  change 
in  one's  pocket  to  be  worthy  the  name  of  Newcomb, 
pleased  him.  As  for  Bill,  he  was  amenable  to  any 
suggestion.  He  was  dazed — that  was  it — May 
hoped  the  state  would  last  long  enough  to  enable  her 
125 


126  The  Road  of  Ambition 

to  purchase  all  the  hats  and  gowns  and  furs  she  had 
ever  dreamed  of  owning.  It  rather  looked  as  though 
someone  had  rubbed  an  Aladdin's  lamp  and  set  all 
the  unemployed  genii  to  work.  She  told  herself  re- 
peatedly it  was  too  good  to  last. 

From  the  moment  Bill  walked  aboard  the  train, 
occupied  a  drawing-room  fit  for  a  king  and  discov- 
ered that  men  flew  to  do  his  bidding,  from  cleaning 
his  boots  to  fetching  his  drinks,  he  had  passed  into 
a  state  of  complete  bewilderment.  He  was  not  him- 
self. The  fact  was,  May  did  not  give  him  time  to 
think.  She  swept  him  along  in  her  own  whirlwind  of 
enthusiasm — never  forgetting  for  an  instant  that  he 
was  to  be  ultimately  hers — that  in  time  she  was  to 
flash  him  before  the  eyes  of  an  amazed  and  envious 
Bethel — that  he  must  be  made  ready  for  the  Great 
Day  when  a  Newcomb  should  return  to  Her  Own. 

Bill  learned  quickly.  In  a  few  months  he  had  ac- 
quired what  May  called  "the  essentials" — that  one 
did  not  say  "ain't"  and  "hadn't  ought  to" — that  one 
kept  one's  coat  on  and  one's  feet  down  in  the  pres- 
ence of  ladies.  He  learned  with  a  rapidity  which 
was  amazing,  but  May  was  not  content.  Bethel  was 
to  crawl — and  to  make  it  crawl  abjectly — on  its 
stomach,  so  to  speak — she  must  have  by  her  side  a 
man  who  could  play  the  game  with  the  best  of  them 
— thus  his  education  in  sports  began. 

Monty,  after  much  persuasion,  consented  to  do 
his  share  by  teaching  Bill  the  drinks  a  gentleman 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      127 

drank — to  show  him  the  art  of  mixing  a  cocktail — 
of  perusing  a  wine  list — but  further  than  that  he 
would  not  go.  May  was  just  as  glad.  She  wanted 
Bill  to  depend  upon  her — to  feel  he  must  turn  to  her 
with  all  his  problems.  He  did.  Day  by  day  he  mar- 
velled anew  at  her  knowledge  of  life — her  keenness 
to  grasp  a  situation — her  tact  in  covering  up  his 
blunders.  He  felt  overwhelmingly  grateful  to  her — 
precisely  as  she  intended  he  should  feel.  And  when 
one  day  she  suggested  it  was  high  time  he  learned  to 
dance — to  drive  a  car — to  ride  a  horse — to  swing  a 
golf  stick — to  wield  a  racquet,  he  was  prepared  to 
start  his  several  courses  at  once. 

Tennis  he  never  acquired  and  his  golf  was  bad. 
He  snapped  too  many  clubs  in  his  tremendous  drives 
lost  too  many  balls,  but  he  liked  to  dance  and  he 
handled  a  car  like  a  veteran.  He  loved  to  feel  it 
leap  beneath  him — to  swing  it  at  break-neck  speed 
through  traffic — to  bring  it  to  a  quivering  stop  at 
the  shrill  of  the  whistle. 

"Man-sized  sport — that!"  he'd  chuckle,  wiping 
the  streaks  of  dust  from  his  face.  "Gee,  it's  most  as 
good  as  cogging,  ain't  it?"  But  at  May's  light  touch 
he  was  all  contrition.  UI  forgot  that  time — I  mean, 
it's  got  any  other  game  beaten  to  a  standstill — is 
that  the  way  you  say  it?"  and  she  would  nod. 

Riding  was  harder  to  master.  A  man  who's  never 
seen  a  horse  at  close  range  is  apt  to  shy  at  mounting 
one,  but  Bill  allowed  himself  to  be  hoisted  into  the 


128  The  Road  of  Ambition 

saddle  and  once  he  felt  the  firm,  sleek  back  beneath 
him,  he  knew  he  would  never  be  afraid. 

"We'll  get  on  first  rate,"  said  he,  patting  his 
horse's  neck.  "What  can  he  do  but  chuck  me  off — 
and  it'll  take  a  heap  of  chucking  to  finish  me!" 

His  education  was  by  no  means  complete.  May 
dragged  him  through  the  galleries  which  he  loathed, 
to  lectures  which  he  could  not  understand  and  to  the 
opera.  This  he  found  strangely  alluring.  "It  ain't 
so  much  the  story,"  he  said,  on  his  return  from  his 
first  visit,  "or  them  people  standin'  round  shoutin' 
hallelujah  at  you — but  it's  somethin'  gets  inside  o' 
you  and  grips  you  by  the  throat — the  music,  I  reckon 
— queer,  too,  'cause  you  can't  follow  the  tune.  ..." 

He  read,  too — anything  he  could  lay  his  hands 
on — good  books — bad  books — indifferent  books — 
books  of  pleasure — of  travel — "anything  with  two 
covers  and  reading  in  between,"  he'd  say. 

He  could  not  seem  to  get  his  fill  of  them.  His 
thirst  for  knowledge  was  unquenchable.  He  read 
late  at  nights,  sleep  banished,  drowsiness  forgotten, 
irt  the  story  unfolding  before  his  very  eyes.  He  mar- 
velled that  men  could  juggle  their  words  with  such 
skill.  He  studied  sentences  that  sounded  well  in 
his  ears.  He  tried  to  form  better  ones.  He  played 
with  words  as  with  a  delicate  instrument.  He  was 
like  a  thirsty  traveller  who  has  journeyed  long 
through  the  desert  and  has  at  length  reached  an 
oasis — there  to  find  a  spring  of  life-giving  water. 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      129 

May  encouraged  him  delightedly.  This  passion 
for  books  was  just  what  he  needed  to  give  him  the 
polish  that  lasted.  It  was  more  than  she  had  dared 
hope  for,  but  she  took  all  credit  for  it  unto  herself. 
She  told  herself  repeatedly  that  it  was  due  to  her 
skill  as  a  teacher.  She  was  not  afraid  to  proceed 
with  his  education  at  a  swift  pace. 

The  theatres — the  races — the  churches — the  res- 
taurants— May  always  by  his  side,  breathless,  eager, 
animated,  delighting  in  the  heads  that  turned  to  gaze 
at  her  smart  frocks  and  daring  hats.  It  was  elixir 
to  her — the  wine  of  life.  Her  eyes  sparkled  like 
twin  flames — her  lips  were  always  curved — her  thin, 
little  face  was  intensely  alive — enchanted  with  the 
present — dreaming  of  the  future  when  she  would  be 
mistress  of  a  mansion  in  Bethel.  "I'll  show  them 
what  it  is  to  spend  money,"  she  would  whisper  to 
herself,  her  little  hands  clenched.  "I'll  make  them 
sit  up  and  take  notice.  He'll  let  me,  too — he'll  have 
to.  I've  made  him  and  I'll  never  let  him  forget  it 
— never!  ..." 

She  never  did.  A  thousand  times  a  day  in  a  thou- 
sand different  ways  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  fact  that  he  had  the  tiny  dark  woman  at  his  side 
to  thank  for  everything.  She  had  given  up  all  her 
time — all  her  thought  to  him — she  had  left  home  to 
travel  with  him — she  was  doing  it  because  she  be- 
lieved in  him.  Oh,  no,  he  did  not  forget  it — she  saw 
to  that! 


130  The  Road  of  Ambition 

And  as  he  became  accustomed  to  the  strange,  ex- 
otic life  he  was  leading — a  life  whose  creed  seemed 
to  be,  "Play — play — for  tomorrow  we  grow  old," 
the  sense  of  bewilderment  passed.  He  began  to  find 
himself.  To  delight  in  his  new  command  of  his 
language — his  skill  in  tipping — his  ability  to  buy 
good  seats  for  a  show — to  arrange  a  party.  Swept 
along  on  the  wave  of  his  enthusiasm  for  this  new 
game,  he  did  not  heed  the  passing  of  the  months — 
the  fact  that  the  winter  was  over  and  spring  at  hand, 
but  was  content  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  each  suc- 
ceeding day — his  senses  drugged  by  the  luxury  in 
which  he  was  steeped.  Then  he  awoke. 

They  were  leaving  the  theatre.  May  had  worn 
a  new  gown — a  thing  of  scales — green,  shimmering, 
clinging.  About  her  forehead  she  had  clasped  a 
chain,  with  a  single  emerald  between  her  eyes.  She 
had  never  looked  so  wickedly  beautiful — so  entirely 
desirable.  Around  her  shoulders  she  had  flung  a 
wrap  of  crimson  velvet  with  a  high  collar  of  white 
fur,  above  which  her  dark  little  face  appeared  sin- 
gularly elf-like  and  sharp.  Bill  tucked  her  arm  in  his 
as  they  left  the  theatre.  He  pressed  her  fingers. 

"You're  wonderful !"  he  whispered  eagerly. 

She  smiled  and  swept  him  with  her  eyes — this  big 
man  beside  her — his  head  so  sleek  and  smooth,  his 
face  so  closely  shaven — his  manner  so  easy — could 
this  have  been  the  man  who  entered  her  living-room 
in  Bethel  six  months  ago ! 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      131 

"I'll  wait  here.  See  if  you  can  find  the  car,"  she 
told  him. 

He  hurried  forward  and  she  watched  him  elbow 
his  way  through  the  crowd — head  and  shoulders 
above  the  rest — sweeping  men  aside  like  so  much 
chaff.  Outside  a  fine  rain  was  falling.  The  lights 
of  the  motor  lamps  were  blurred  and  dim — the  horns 
shouted  in  a  hundred  hoarse  keys.  A  fog,  like  a 
gray  curtain,  hung  low.  Bill  wormed  his  way  to  the 
curb,  scanned  the  long  line  of  cars,  paused,  as  he 
heard  a  low  whine. 

"Ain't  you  got  a  penny  for  an  old  man?" 

He  swung  about  and  in  the  dim  light  saw  the  beg- 
gar. 

"Gee !"  he  whistled  through  his  teeth,  "if  it  ain't 
Old  Mack." 

The  man  was  even  then  holding  out  his  palm  to  a 
woman  in  furs  who  swept  by  him,  but  her  escort 
halted  before  the  old  man. 

"Out  of  the  way,"  he  growled.  "Can't  you  see  the 
lady  wants  to  get  by?"  and  with  the  cane  he  carried 
he  thrust  the  old  man  back  and  hurried  toward  his 
machine. 

Something  surged  up  in  Bill — a  desire  to  thrash 
the  youth  in  evening  clothes  who  had  dared  lay  a 
hand  on  his  friend.  The  words  that  rushed  to  his 
lips  he  fought  back,  but  with  an  oath  he  flung  him- 
self at  the  man. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  knocking  an  old  fellow 


132  The  Road  of  Ambition 

out  of  the  way?"  he  cried.  The  man  staggered 
back,  his  face  purple. 

"Let  me  go  1"  he  shouted,  "or  I'll  call  the  police !" 

"You  won't  be  able  to,  when  I  get  through  with 
you,"  snarled  Bill,  as  he  drew  back  his  arm,  but 
someone  caught  it.  It  was  May. 

"Bill — Bill,"  she  gasped,  "you  mustn't — you 
mustn't  ..."  He  dropped  his  hand  and  the  man 
scrambled  into  his  car  and  slammed  the  door.  The 
crowd  moved  back,  smiling,  and  Bill  turned  to  her. 

"Lucky  for  him  you  came  along,"  he  began,  then 
stopped  short  at  the  sight  of  her  face.  "Anything 
wrong?" 

She  nodded.  "In  front  of  all  these  people,  Bill — 
what  will  they  think?" 

He  grinned.  "I  reckon  they'll  think  he  didn't  get 
half  what  was  coming  to  him  !  .  .  .  " 

Still  she  clung  to  his  arm.  "Bill,"  she  said,  "let's 
go  home  at  once." 

He  patted  her  hand.  "Soon  as  I  get  hold  of 
Mack." 

He  felt  her  grip  tighten.  "You  aren't — you 
couldn't  mean  that  you  will  take  that  man — that  beg- 
gar  " 

He  stared  at  her.    "Why  not?" 

She  faced  him  suddenly.  "You  don't  know  what 
you're  doing,"  she  said  swiftly,  her  face  very  pale. 
"You  can't  know — starting  a  quarrel — with  a  gentle- 
man. Let's  get  away,  Bill.  Now " 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      133 

He  shook  his  head.  "You  don't  understand. 
Mack's  my  friend — the  best  hammer  driver  in  the 
Works."  He  smiled  as  he  drew  his  arm  away. 
"Wait  here,"  he  cautioned. 

"Bill,"  she  cried  tensely,  "for  my  sake  I  ask  you 
not  to " 

He  turned  for  a  minute,  his  face  puzzled.  "You 
don't  mean  that,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  couldn't,"  and 
he  was  gone. 

The  old  man  had  moved  away  from  the  crowd, 
shoulders  hunched  against  the  storm,  his  cap  over  his 
eyes.  He  had  passed  out  of  the  gay  circle  of  lights 
and  was  plodding  toward  the  avenue  when  Bill 
caught  up  with  him. 

"Mack!"  he  shouted.     "Oh,  Mack!" 

The  old  man  turned  and  stared  up  into  the  face 
of  the  gentleman  behind  him — stared  quizzically,  his 
eyes  narrowed,  his  thin  lips  pinched,  at  length  he 
shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  know  you,  sir,"  he  said  and  turned  away, 
but  Bill  caught  his  hands. 

"Don't  know  me?  Don't  know  Bill  Matthews! 
Didn't  think  you'd  forget  me  this  soon,  Mack!  Blest 
if  I  did!" 

The  old  man  fell  back,  staring.  Suddenly  he 
reached  out  a  hand  and  touched  Bill's  sleeve. 

"I'm  crazy,"  he  muttered,  "I'm  just  dreamin'  it!" 

Bill  patted  his  shoulder.  "Dreaming  nothing! 
It's  Bill — same  as  ever." 


134  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"And  you  saw  me — beggin' " 

"Saw  a  big  stiff  shoving  you  out  of  the  way  and 
I  mixed  up  with  him  a  bit." 

"You  I"  gasped  Mack.    "Was  that  you  ?" 

Bill  nodded.  "Almost  forgotten  how  to  use  my 
fists — but  not  quite." 

Mack  shook  his  head. 

"Wanted  to  know  what  you  meant  by  stopping  a 
lady,  did  he?  Well,  he  pretty  near  found  out!" 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "You're  Bill,  an'  yet  you 
ain't — don't  know  what  to  make  of  it !" 

Bill  laughed.  "I'm  Bill  all  right,  and  you're  com- 
ing home  with  me  to  tell  me  all  about  it.  Down  on 
your  luck,  eh?" 

Mack  nodded.  "You  said  it."  Still  he  hung  back. 
"You  don't  want  me  this  way,"  he  said  slowly. 

Bill  took  his  arm.    "I  want  you  any  way." 

May  awaited  them,  muffled  to  her  eyes.  As  she 
saw  them  approaching  she  stiffened,  but  she  did  not 
speak.  Bill  greeted  her  eagerly. 

"Mack  didn't  want  to  come,  but  I  made  him !" 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "I'd  sooner  not. 

In  the  mornin',  maybe "  The  machine  drew  up 

to  the  curb  and  Bill  helped  her  in.  "You  next,"  he 
said  to  Mack,  then  leaped  in  himself.  May  drew 
herself  into  a  corner  as  far  away  as  she  could  from 
the  little  old  man  who  sat  stiffly  on  the  edge  of  his 
seat,  sensing  her  displeasure.  Bill  turned  to  her 
suddenly,  his  face  alight  with  eagerness. 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      135 

"Think  of  bumping  into  Mack  here  of  all  places. 
Doesn't  it  beat  all?  How  did  it  happen?" 

The  old  man  hesitated.  "Got  turned  off  at  the 
Works — had  to  do  somethin'  so  1  drifted  here." 

Bill  smiled.  "All  in,  aren't  you?  Bet  you're  wet 
though.  I'll  fix  you  up,  though.  Gad !  it  does  my 
eyes  good  to  see  you  I" 

When  they  reached  the  apartment,  May  broke 
her  silence. 

"I'm  very  tired,  Bill,"  she  said  swiftly.  "You  and 
Mr. — Mack — want  to  talk  over  old  times — you 
won't  mind  if  I  run  along."  She  did  not  wait  for 
his  answer.  Before  he  could  frame  a  reply,  she  had 
gone.  Mack  shifted  uneasily. 

"I  reckon  she  don't  like  it — my  bein'  here "  he 

Began,  but  Bill's  laugh  interrupted  him. 

"You've  got  her  dead  wrong,  Mack,  if  you  think 
that.  She's  not  that  kind — why,  if  she  were,  you 
don't  suppose  she  would  have  wanted  to  have  a 
rough  like  me  around,  do  you?" 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "It's  different  with  you, 
Bill — you've  got  the  coin." 

Bill  stared  at  him. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  he  asked  quickly, 
then  he  smiled.  "You're  crazy,  Mack — you  don't 
know  these  high-class  folks — they  don't  do  things  for 
the  money  that's  in  it — they're  above  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"Then  they  ain't  human,"  said  Mack. 


136  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Bill  led  the  way  to  his  den,  and  the  old  man 
paused  at  the  doorway. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  live  here,  Bill?" 

Bill  nodded.  "And  what's  more  I  can  juggle  a 
knife  and  fork  with  the  best  of  them.  I  tell  you, 
Mack,  life's  immense!" 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "I  wouldn't  'a'  believed  you 
could  run  in  such  luck  if  I  hadn't  seen  it  with  my 
two  eyes !"  Bill  poured  him  out  a  drink  and  flung  him 
a  dressing  gown.  "Put  that  around  you,"  he  said. 
"Then  talk." 

But  Mack  was  staring  at  him,  his  eyes  round  with 
wonder. 

"And  you  act  like  you  was  used  to  it !" 

Bill  laughed.  "Well,  I'm  not — you  know  that! 
Pretty  soft,  this,  for  a  fellow  raised  on  hard  work. 
That's  what  I'm  used  to,  Mack — hard  work — and 
that's  what  I'm  getting  ready  for." 

"I  don't  get  you." 

"It's  just  this.  There  are  two  kinds  of  work — 
the  work  we  fellows  did  with  our  hands  and  the  work 
the  men  over  us  did  with  their  heads.  Well,  I  can 
do  the  first,  can't  I? — but  to  do  the  second  I  had 
to  have  training — and  I'm  getting  it — I'm  about 
prime  to  go  back  into  the  game  the  right  way." 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "If  you  think  of  goin'  to 
Bethel,  you'll  find  it  changed." 

"Changed?    How?" 

"Ain't  you  heard?" 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      137 

"Heard  what?" 

"About  the  way  the  Big  Four  are  runnln'  the 
Works — war  orders  comin'  so  fast  they  can't  fill 
'em — lower  wages — new  men — turning  off  us  old 
fellers " 

Bill  stared  at  him.    "They  are,  are  they?" 

Mack  nodded.  "All  different  now — new  buildin's 
put  up  for  makin'  arms — workin'  night  and  day — 
ten-hour  shifts  and  even  at  that  the  boys  don't  begin 
to  turn  out  as  much  as  they  used  to — they  won't  do 
it — ain't  nobody  there  can  make  them — they've 
pushed  'em  and  swore  at  'em  and  coaxed  'em,  but  six 
heats  is  the  most  the  men'll  give — six! — why,  you 
know  we  used  to  make  it  seven  and  sometimes  ten ! 
I  tell  you  the  men  are  sore,  an'  when  they  turned  us 
old  hands  off  they  threatened  to  strike.  'Go  ahead,' 
says  the  bosses,  'we  don't  care.  Plenty  of  scabs  to 
take  your  place!'  " 

Bill  caught  his  breath.  "Talking  that  way,  are 
they?  Well,  that  won't  get  them  anywheres.  Just 
filthy  with  money — that's  their  trouble — and  the 
more  they  have  the  more  they  want.  Do  they  tliink 
the  men  will  work  on  starvation  wages  while  they 
scoop  in  the  gold — say,  Mack,  are  they  crazy? 
Don't  they  know  they  can't  get  grade  A  work  that 
way?" 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "Seems  like  they've  lost 
their  senses.  I  got  my  notice  with  the  rest.  Too  old, 
they  told  me — me  what's  given  forty  years  to  turnin' 


138  The  Road  of  Ambition 

out  the  best  work  I  knew  how — too  old.  .  .  So  I 
went  around  huntin'  a  job,  but  you  know,  Bill,  once 
you've  worked  at  the  factory,  ain't  nothin'  else  you 
can  do.  Nobody'd  have  me,  so  I  come  here  after 
a  while.  Couldn't  get  much — sometimes  made  a 
little  mindin'  folks'  autos,  but  I  wasn't  spry  enough — 
the  youngsters  beat  me  to  them — and  then  when  I 
didn't  have  nothin'  left  I  had  to — beg — and  that's 
how  you  found  me,  although  I'd  'a'  cut  off  my  right 
hand  rather  than  have  you  see  me  do  it !" 

Bill  caught  his  arm.  "Well,  you  won't  beg  any 
more — get  that  through  your  head!  I  need  you, 
Mack,  and  I'm  going  to  use  you.  Do  you  think  I'm 
going  to  stand  by  and  see  the  old  Works  turned  into 
a  machine  to  grind  out  lives?  Not  if  I  can  help  it! 
I  love  every  brick  of  the  old  place — why  shouldn't  I  ? 
Didn't  I  get  my  start  there — every  dollar  I  own 
comes  from  it — why,  Mack,  just  talking  about  it 
makes  me  wonder  how  I've  stayed  away  so  long 
from  the  smell  of  hot  steel !  .  .  .  " 

Mack  gazed  at  him.  "You're  a  swell  yourself, 
Bill,"  he  said  slowly.  "You  won't  go  back." 

Bill  grinned  at  him.  "Won't  I  though,"  he  cried. 
"You  watch  me!  ..." 

Suddenly  he  turned  to  Mack.  "What's  become  of 
Tony — Tony  Dufrano?" 

"He  got  fired  long  with  the  first  lot." 

Bill  started.  "Fired?  Where'd  he  go?  What 
became  of  him?" 


The  Education  of  "Big  Bill"      139 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "Don't  no  one  know.  He 
and  his  sister  give  up  their  rooms  and  dropped  out 
— that's  all  I  ever  heared." 

Bill's  face  was  dark.  "Gone,  eh?"  he  said  slowly, 
then  he  roused  himself.  "Mack,"  he  said  huskily, 
"something  tells  me  that  when  I  go  back  there, 
there's  going  to  be  the  deuce  to  pay." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   AWAKENING   OF   MR.    MATTHEWS 

TV/T  AY'S  maid  had  orders  to  wait  up.  It  was  the 
A  same  order  she  had  received  for  many  weeks 
past,  so  it  was  not  altogether  surprising  that  she 
dozed  in  her  chair.  May  caught  her  napping — it 
was  just  the  spark  she  needed  to  set  off  the  flame  of 
her  pent  up  fury. 

The  girl,  whimpering,  shrank  back  from  the  tor- 
rent of  abuse  poured  down  upon  her,  but  at  May's 
sharp  command  she  approached  and  with  shaking 
hands  tried  to  unfasten  the  hooks — her  fingers 
grown  stiff  and  bungling  in  her  fright.  She  strug- 
gled nervously  with  a  hidden  catch,  and  May,  whirl- 
ing, struck  her.  "You  little  fool,"  she  cried,  "get 
out  before  I  kill  you !"  The  girl  fled  and  May  tore 
the  gown  from  her  white  shoulders  and  flung  it  into 
a  corner. 

She  wanted  to  scream  and  stamp  and  swear.  She 
wanted  to  shriek  aloud  all  the  things  she  had  heard 
her  grandfather  Newcomb  rip  forth  at  his  stormiest 
— but  instead,  she  bit  her  lips  until  they  bled  and 
clenched  her  hands  until  the  nails  cut  deep  into  her 
flesh. 

140 


The  Awakening  of  Mr.  Matthews     141 

Did  Bill  expect  to  drag  in  beggars  from  the  street 
to  share  his  home!  What  could  she  say  to  him — 
how  could  she  tell  him !  She  was  afraid  of  him — 
that  was  it.  Afraid  of  a  look  in  his  eyes — a  look  as 
though  he  saw  her  for  the  first  time  in  a  new  light — 
an  ugly  one.  True,  in  a  second  this  had  given  place 
to  his  old,  tender  deference — but  she  dared  not  risk 
rousing  it  again. 

She  paced  the  floor — softly  though — very  softly, 
for  Monty  was  in  the  next  room,  sucking  contentedly 
at  his  pipe.  How  he  would  crow  over  her  if  he 
knew !  Would  point  out  that  this  might  have  been 
expected — would  insist  that  as  Bill's  wife  she  must 
prepare  to  have  dinner  guests  of  peddlers  and  ladle- 
scullers.  Suddenly  she  stopped  short.  A  slow  wave 
of  color  sweeping  up  intoher  face — there  were  other 
ways  of  bringing  a  man  around.  .  .  .  Bill  had  re- 
fused her  nothing,  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose 
he  would  because  a  ragged  old  man  from  the  past 
had  crossed  his  path.  She  dropped  into  a  chair  be- 
fore her  dressing  table.  She  studied  her  face,  in- 
tently; suddenly  she  lifted  her  arms  and  tore  at  the 
pins  that  bound  her  hair.  It  fell,  a  long,  black  coil 
over  her  shoulder.  Then  she  drew  a  soft  gown 
about  her  and  rang. 

Her  maid,  still  sniffling,  entered  timidly.  May 
turned  toward  her,  her  rage  had  vanished,  her  lips 
curved  sweetly — her  eyes  were  dangerously  soft  be- 
neath the  cloud  of  hair. 


142  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Tell  me,  Stella,  do  I  look  as  though  I  had  been 
angry?"  she  whispered. 

The  maid — too  frightened  to  speak — shook  her 
head.  May  waved  her  hand. 

"Go  to  the  den  and  tell  Mr.  Matthews  I  want  to 
see  him — tell  him  it  is  important." 

Stella  nodded  and  disappeared  and  May  turned 
back  to  the  mirror,  her  chin  on  her  hand,  gazing 
steadily  into  her  half-closed  eyes. 

Bill  heard  the  summons  with  surprise,  but  Mack 
was  plainly  distressed.  "If  I've  made  trouble,  I'll 
hike  along,"  he  said,  but  Bill  patted  his  shoulder. 

"You're  here  to  stay  as  long  as  you  want  to." 

The  corridor  was  plunged  in  darkness,  except  for 
the  ray  of  light  beneath  May's  door.  Bill  hesi- 
tated, wondering,  and  at  length  approached  and 
knocked.  He  heard  the  soft  rustle  of  silk  and  then 
her  voice  close  to  the  door. 

"Bill,  is  that  you?" 

He  answered,  and  she  opened  the  door.  He  did 
not  enter,  but  his  eyes  travelled  beyond  the  tiny 
figure  in  white  to  the  room  itself,  bathed  in  the  warm 
glow  of  shaded  candles.  The  flowered  spread  flung 
back  from  the  bed  was  pink — the  rugs — the  hang- 
ings— the  flowers — it  was  like  a  bower  of  roses.  Bill 
had  never  before  seen  it  at  night — he  drew  his  breath 
sharply.  She  watched  his  face  as  she  spoke. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you — I  wanted  to  ask  you  to 
forgive  me " 


The  Awakening  of  Mr.  Matthews     143 

"Forgive  you?"  his  voice  was  a  trifle  husky.  He 
tried  to  collect  his  thoughts,  but  the  warm,  sweet 
perfume  of  the  flowers  was  all  he  was  conscious  of — 
that,  and  the  tiny  figure  before  him,  a  coil  of  blue- 
black  hair  over  her  shoulder.  She  was  speaking. 

"I  was  so  impatient  with  you  to-night — when  your 
friend  came  with  us — I  am  sorry  ..." 

He  did  not  want  her  to  be  sorry.  He  did  not 
want  to  do  anything  as  long  as  he  lived  to  make 
her  sorry.  What  right  had  he  to  let  her  ask  his 
pardon — this  sprite  with  her  background  of  pink? 
He  shook  his  head. 

"You  couldn't  do  wrong — you  couldn't " 

It  was  not  what  he  meant  to  say.  He  meant  to 
tell  her  that  Mack  was  a  good  fellow  and  that  she 
would  be  sure  to  like  him,  but  the  words  did  not 
come,  instead,  he  gazed  at  her — at  her  timid  smile, 
her  anxious  eyes. 

"I  couldn't  sleep  until  I  knew — you  forgave  me." 

He  stared  at  her.  "I've  never  seen  you  look  like 
this  before,"  he  said,  heavily.  "You're  a  little  girl 
— and  yet — you're  a  woman !" 

She  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "You  do  understand 
then,  that  it  was  because  I  was  tired?" 

Her  warm  breath  fanned  his  cheek — he  was 
strangely  stirred — she  could  not  know  how  she  was 
moving  him — she  could  not  guess  it.  He  was  afraid 
for  her — for  himself.  Afraid  of  the  semi-darkness 
— the  scent  of  the  roses — the  touch  of  her  fingers. 


144  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"May — May,"  he  heard  himself  saying.  "I'd  bet- 
ter go  now — I'd  better " 

Still  she  clung  to  him.  She  trusted  him — that  was 
it! — she  knew  he  would  not  harm  a  hair  of  her  head 
— he  must  live  up  to  her  trust — he  must  battle  with 
this  desire  to  crush  her  in  his  arms — to  kiss  her  hair 
— her  eyes — her  lips. 

"Bill,"  she  whispered,  "Bill,  you  do  love  me — a 
little." 

How  fragile  she  was — how  white — except  her 
eyes,  burning  black — like  coals  with  a  light  behind 
them. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  breathed.  "You  know  I  do — 
you " 

"Then  you'll  do  as  I  ask  you  to — you  will,  won't 
you?" 

"Anything!"  he  cried.  If  he  could  only  go — he 
must  tear  himself  away  from  those  clinging  hands — 
he  must  remember  that  above  all  she  trusted  him — 
he  must  keep  hold  of  himself. 

"Then  take  me  away  from  here,  Bill " 

Away  from  here !  His  head  cleared  suddenly  as 
from  a  breath  of  cool  air.  Then  she  wanted  it,  too 
— was  sick  of  the  sight  and  sound  of  the  big  city — 
sick  of  this  life  of  indolence.  What  a  beast  he  had 
been  to  keep  her  there  though  the  whisper  of  Spring 
was  in  the  air.  Away  from  here!  He  caught  her 
hands. 

"Do  you  want  to  go,  too?" 


The  Awakening  of  Mr.  Matthews     145 

She  nodded,  quick  to  catch  the  inflection  in  his 
voice — something  had  happened — she  had  said  the 
wrong  thing — in  some  way  the  spell  had  been  broken 
— what  had  she  done? — she  moved  close  to  him,  her 
voice  was  like  a  caress. 

"Away,  Bill — far,  far  away — West,  perhaps — 
somewheres  where  I  can  rest — where  we  can  study 
and  read  and  play  together." 

But  he  shook  his  head.  "I've  got  a  better  plan — 
a  much  better  plan — we'll  go  back  to  Bethel." 

He  felt  her  fingers  tighten  on  his  arm.  "Not 
there,  Bill — I  don't  want  to  go  there — yet."  She 
waited,  breathless,  for  his  reply.  She  sought  to  hold 
his  eyes  with  her  own,  but  he  plunged  on. 

"Fact  is,  I'm  homesick  for  it — that's  it — home- 
sick. Queer,  you're  wanting  to  get  away,  too,  just 
when  I  was  ready  to  move  on — but  Mack — Mack 
showed  me  what  it  was  I  was  aching  for — it  was  to 
get  back  to  the  Works " 

She  was  so  startled  she  forgot  her  role.  Her  voice 
was  sharp  and  crisp.  "The  Works?  I  don't  under- 
stand." 

He  laughed  boyishly.  "Of  course  you  don't.  It 
seems  things  have  been  going  dead  wrong — all  sorts 
of  profit  for  the  bosses  and  none  for  the  men.  Of 
course,  the  grade  of  work  has  run  down " 

"But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  you?" 

"That's  just  it.  I  know  the  men.  I  know  every 
last  one  of  them.  I  know  what  they  can  do — and 


146  The  Road  of  Ambition 

what  they  will  do — and  what's  more  I'm  going  to 
make  it  clear  to  the  bosses  what  they've  got  to  do. 
It'll  be  a  job,  I  tell  you — but  I've  a  hunch  I'm  the 
man  to  tackle  it!" 

She  thought  quickly.  There  was  no  time  to  lose. 
She  must  keep  him  away  at  all  costs.  He  would  ruin 
all  her  plans.  He  would  ruin  himself.  Try  to 
teach  the  Big  Four!  Why,  it  was  madness!  She 
faced  him. 

"Bill,"  she  said  softly,  "you've  trusted  me — 
you've  left  your  welfare  in  my  hands — I've  tried  so 
hard  to  help  you "  her  voice  trembled. 

He  stared  at  her,  dismayed.  "May,  I've  hurt 
you !  I've  said  something  I  shouldn't  have !  I'm  a 
brute.  I  am!  I  am!"  His  voice  was  full  of  con- 
trition but  it  lacked  the  throb  of  passion.  She  was 
not  discouraged. 

"I'm  afraid  for  you,"  she  went  on,  "so  afraid — 
these  men — these  big  men  are  so  powerful — so  cruel 
— they  have  played  a  winning  game  so  long  they  hold 
all  the  cards.  How  can  you  hope  to  meet  them — 
yet?  They'll  conquer  you,  Bill — they  cannot  help 
but  do  so — then  where  will  you  be?  This  is  mad- 
ness— this  going  back.  I  know.  I  tell  you  they  will 
crush  you — and  rob  you  of  every  penny  you  have — 
do  you  think  for  a  minute  they  will  let  an — upstart — 
tell  them  how  to  run  their  business?  No — no — lis- 
ten to  me — Bill — to  me — not  to  the  ravings  of  a 
crazy  beggar.  ..." 


fThe  Awakening  of  Mr.  Matthews     147 

He  shook  his  head — his  teeth  clinched — his  jaw 
firm.  "Sure  they'll  fight  me,"  he  said  grimly,  "why 
shouldn't  they?  They're  not  going  to  stand  for  my 
interference  or  any  one  else's — but  do  you  think  that 
will  stop  me?  Not  by  a  big  sight!  I'm  not  afraid 
of  them — I'm  not  afraid  to  meet  any  of  them  now. 
I  said  I'd  show  them  some  day — and  I  will,  by 
Jove !" 

She  stared  at  him.  "But,  Bill — if  I  want  you  to 
go  with  me — if  I  ask  you  to — you  won't  refuse — 
you  can't " 

He  patted  her  hand.  "Don't  fret  about  me,  little 
woman.  I  tell  you  you've  given  too  much  of  your 
time  to  me  as  it  is.  That  wasn't  part  of  the  bargain 
we  made.  If  you  and  Monty  want  to  take  a  run  to 
the  coast,  why  go  ahead — stay  as  long  as  you  like — 
but  I'm  going  back  to  Bethel — the  boys  need  me — 
that's  it — they  need  me !" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  was  struggling  for  a 
mastery  of  herself — of  him.  She  would  make  him 
bend  to  her  will — she  must.  All  at  once  she  knew 
she  could  not — that  her  pleading  would  not  change 
him  a  whit.  She  was  suddenly  resolved. 

"I  won't  go  without  you,  Bill.  I  can  be  more  help 
to  you  by  staying." 

He  smiled  down  at  her — tiny — dark — tense — no 
taller  than  his  shoulder. 

"You  won't  be  sorry  you've  done  all  this  for 
me!" 


148  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  managed  to  smile  and  he  caught  her  hand. 

"Goodnight,"  he  said  softly,  "Goodnight." 

She  heard  his  tread  grow  fainter  and  she  re-en- 
tered her  room.  She  closed  the  door  softly  and 
dropped  in  a  chair  by  the  bed.  She  had  lost.  She 
had  lost  by  some  strange  twist  of  fate  when  he  was 
almost  hers — nothing  tangible — no  mistake  in  her 
technique — but  because  of  a  beggar — a  spectre  of  his 
former  life.  She  clenched  her  hands. 

"I'll  marry  him,"  she  said  through  her  teeth. 
"I'll  marry  him  and  then  he'll  do  things  differently — 
he'll  have  to !" 

Monty's  door  opened.  He  regarded  her  cur- 
iously. 

"Sparking  with  your  factory  hand?"  he  inquired 
lazily.  She  did  not  answer.  He  waited  a  reasonable 
length  of  time,  then  ventured  another  remark. 
"What's  the  row?  Must  have  turned  down  some 
pet  scheme  of  yours  to  make  you  so  blamed  sore. 
Let's  hear  about  it." 

She  hitched  her  shoulder  and  he  grinned. 

"Cheer  up,  May,"  he  said,  "there's  one  thing  in 
your  favor.  You've  spent  more  of  his  money  in  the 
past  six  months  than  he  ever  knew  he  had!"  and 
with  a  chuckle  he  closed  the  door  between  them,  be- 
fore she  could  reach  him — her  hands  like  claws — her 
eyes  blazing. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   RISING   STORM 

TT  was  early  June.  Bethel's  sun-dappled  lawns 
were  fresh  with  the  green  of  the  new  grass — its 
hedges  were  flowering — its  tree-tops  a  lace-work  of 
young  leaves.  Its  old  and  new  families  agreed  that 
it  was  the  one  season  of  the  year  which  must  not 
be  lived  elsewhere — the  city  was  so  exquisitely  lovely 
in  the  fulfillment  of  Spring's  promise. 

On  the  Colt  place  the  gardeners — and  under  gar- 
deners and  under-under  gardeners  plied  their  spades 
— their  hoes — their  rakes,  turned  the  ground — 
weeded  the  paths — trimmed  the  bushes.  But  for  the 
whirr  of  the  lawn  mower,  the  sharp  snap-snap  of  the 
clippers,  the  lazy  shout  of  one  gardener  to  another 
— no  sound  broke  the  heavy  June  peace  which  lay  on 
the  great  estate. 

Indoors  it  was  different.  Colt  had  locked  him- 
self in  his  library  with  his  son  Philip.  The  library 
was  his  sancto-sanctorum.  In  it  his  papers — his 
books — his  ledgers  were  inviolate.  No  hand  save 
his  own  and  that  of  Jenkins,  his  secretary,  touched 
so  much  as  a  scrap.  To  enter  here,  the  story  ran, 
was  harder  than  getting  into  heaven  itself. 
149 


150  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Colt  paced  the  floor.  He  paced  with  long  strides. 
He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  mop  of  bristly  red- 
dish hair.  He  was  an  imposing  man — heavy — well 
built,  accustomed  to  instant  obedience — you  could 
tell  it  by  his  chin — aggressive,  square — by  his  lips, 
thin,  finely  cut,  by  his  eyes,  uncompromising,  alert. 
He  breathed  energy — he  emanated  energy — he  was 
all  his  son  was  not. 

Philip,  slight  and  graceful  and  indolent,  watched 
his  father  in  amused  silence.  At  length  Colt,  plung- 
ing his  hands  into  his  pockets,  whirled  on  him. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  coming  around  to-day? 
Haven't  I  told  you  the  meeting's  at  one?" 

Philip  shrugged.  "Never  can  see  you  these  days, 
governor,  unless  I  break  in  this  way." 

Colt  strode  the  length  of  the  great  room  and  back, 
then  stopped  before  his  son  and  scowled  at  him. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  Give  you  ten  minutes."  He 
dragged  out  a  heavy  gold  watch  from  his  pocket — 
peered  at  it  and  turned  back  to  his  son.  "Go  on." 

Philip  drew  forward  a  chair.  "Sit  down,  pater, 
you  know  it's  important  or  I  wouldn't  blow  in  on 
you  this  way." 

Colt  grumbled,  glanced  over  his  shoulder — jerked 
up  his  coat  and  sat  down.  "Eight  minutes  left." 

Philip  smiled.  "It's  just  this.  You  want  me  to 
marry,  don't  you?  You've  been  driving  at  it  a  long 
time,  haven't  you? — making  me  swear  I'd  do  it  be- 
fore the  year  was  out" 


A  Rising  Storm  151 

Colt,  senior,  nodded.  "Time  you  did.  Every 
young  man  ought  to.  Make  you  settle  down.  No 
more  nonsense.  Paid  enough  for  your  fool  scrapes." 

Philip  replied,  "Exactly.    Well,  I'm  going  to." 

"Eh?  What's  that?"  said  Colt,  staring  at  him, 
"what'd  you  say?" 

Philip  laughed.  "I  said  I'm  going  to — that  is,  if 
the  girl's  willing — you  have  to  have  her  consent  you 
know." 

Colt  shook  his  head.  "Stuff !  Any  girl'd  be  glad 
to  get  a  Colt." 

Philip  nodded.  "That's  what  I  thought — but 
there's  one  who  isn't — and  that's  the  one  I  want." 

"Who  is  it?"  shot  Colt. 

Philip  paused.  "Queer,  but  it's  the  girl  you  told 
me  to  go  after — it's " 

"Not  old  Van  Steer's  daughter?" 

Philip  nodded. 

Colt  sprang  from  his  chair.  "And  you  mean  to 
say  she  refused  you — refused  my  son — that  pauper's 
daughter !" 

Philip  raised  his  hand.  "Hold  on.  Not  so  strong, 
gov,  she  just  couldn't  see  me  in  the  role  of  hus- 
band— that's  all." 

Colt  stared  at  him.  "The  girl  must  be  a  fool — 
a  blind  little  fool.  She  couldn't  have  refused  you — 
she  couldn't  have.  What  has  she  got  to  refuse  you 
on?  Van  Steer  hasn't  a  dollar  left — not  a  dollar — 
refused  you !  Why,  she  ought  to  get  down  on  her 


152  The  Road  of  Ambition 

knees  and  thank  God  she  had  a  chance  of  taking 
you!" 

"Well,  she  doesn't — on  the  contrary,  she  seems 
quite  relieved  that  I've  quit  proposing  to  her.  Lets 
me  come  around  again  but  if  I  open  my  mouth  to  pop 
it's  all  off.  Absolutely  all  off." 

Colt  shook  his  head.  "Something's  wrong  there. 
Isn't  natural.  She's  playing  with  you.  She's  so  sure 
of  you,  she's  playing  with  you." 

"That's  what  I  thought — but  when  I  started  rush- 
ing some  of  the  other  girls  she  was  nice  to  me  again 
— as  nice  as  she  ever  is." 

Colt  scowled.     "What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

Philip  smiled.  "Why,  pater,  I  don't  quite  know. 
It's  this  way.  I  marry  her  or  no  one.  Understand? 
That  goes.  Now  if  you  can  think  up  a  good  way  to 
make  her  see  me  as  a  suitor,  why,  I'll  take  your  tip 
and  settle  down,  otherwise  it's  the  bright  lights  for 
mine." 

Colt  turned  on  him.  "Don't  be  a  fool,"  he 
growled.  "Of  course  you  can  marry  her  if  you  want 
to.  Any  man  can  marry  any  woman.  That's  what 
women  are  for,  aren't  they? — to  be  married.  Let's 
get  down  to  facts.  What's  her  objection  to 
you?" 

Phil  laughed.  "Awfully  sorry  to  say  it,  gov,  but 
she  says  it's  because  I'm  your  son.  Rough  on  you,  I 
know,  but  you  see  you  did  turn  a  rather  shabby  trick 
on  her  old  man." 


A  Rising  Storm  153 

Colt  stared  at  him.  "You  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about.  Shabby  trick!  If  we  hadn't  taken 
away  his  stock  someone  else  would  have — he's  a 
born  idiot — and  idiots  were  never  intended  to  handle 
shares  of  Bethel  Steel.  What  we  did  was  an  act  of 
charity.  Yes,"  he  chuckled,  "an  act  of  charity." 
He  stopped  short.  "So  that's  her  objection,  is  it — 
well,  she's  never  worked,  has  she — she's  never  used 
those  Van  Steer  hands  for  anything  but  embroidery 
and  golf — or  whatever  women  do.  Fortune's  been 
pretty  good  to  her — plenty  of  friends  among  the 
Old  Families  and  among  the  New.  What  would  she 
do  if  it  were  all  swept  away — if  she  didn't  have  a  red 
cent  left — would  she  turn  down  my  son  because  he 
was  my  son — I  wonder  I" 

Philip  protested.  "Oh,  I  say,  gov — don't  do  any- 
thing like  that — you  know  that  would  put  me  in  all 
wrong " 

Colt  whirled  on  him,  "Get  out  of  here — leave  me 
alone.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd  give  you  ten  minutes  and 
you've  taken  twelve.  Thinks  she's  too  good  for  a 
Colt,  does  she?  Well,  we'll  see." 

Philip  rose  languidly.  "Whatever  you  plan  to  do, 
gov,  go  slow — remember  I  suggest  nothing." 

Colt  nodded,  his  hand  on  the  bell.  Jenkins  ap- 
peared. 

"Show  the  gentlemen  in,"  he  said  curtly,  and  to 
Philip,  "Now  then,  clear  out!" 

When  the  Big  Four  convened  in  Colt's  library,  it 


154  The  Road  of  Ambition 

was  said  the  nation  shook.  Colt,  with  that  strange, 
unwritten  etiquette  of  the  magnate,  never  called  on 
any  of  his  henchmen — the  man  who  ruled  steel  was 
a  king,  just  as  the  man  who  ruled  oil  or  copper — 
with  unlimited  authority  and  power  over  the  lives 
and  fortunes  of  his  subjects.  When  there  were  ques- 
tions to  decide,  laws  to  make,  his  lieutenants  came  to 
him — always  to  him.  He  stirred  only  from  his 
throne  room  to  meet — on  a  common  ground,  say  at 
the  club — some  equally  powerful  sovereign  of  fi- 
nance. 

The  rule  went  down  the  line.  Decker  and  Patti- 
son  and  Rogers,  each  in  turn,  weighed  his  own  im- 
portance and  refused  to  move  from  his  office  except 
at  a  summons  from  his  chief.  It  was  meet  and  right 
so  to  do.  America  has  no  kings  save  money-kings — 
has  no  lords  save  the  lord  of  the  dollar  and  the  men 
who  stand  first  in  round  figures,  in  dividends — in  gilt- 
edge  securities,  are  the  men  who  deserve  the  adula- 
tion and  homage  of  the  lesser  magnates — a  just 
tribute  to  their  greater  skill  and  shrewdness  and 
proficiency  in  piling  up  gold. 

Jenkins  flung  open  the  door.  "Mr.  Decker,  Mr. 
Pattison,  Mr.  Rogers." 

Colt  nodded  to  them,  and  called  Jenkins  aside. 
"Tell  Benson  to  wait  until  I  send  for  him."  Jenk- 
ins bowed  and  vanished. 

The  three  men  dropped  in  chairs  about  the  round 
table  at  which  Colt  had  seated  himself.  Decker, 


A  Rising  Storm  155 

small,  with  a  sharp  little  beak  and  no  hair  to  speak 
of — chewed  the  corner  of  a  cigar  that  had  gone  out 
and  drummed  on  the  table.  Pattison,  who  was 
mighty  in  size  and  capacity  for  work  alike — was 
figuring  on  the  back  of  an  envelope,  with  the  stub 
of  a  pencil.  Rogers,  the  youngest  of  the  Big  Four, 
nicknamed  "the  Dude"  by  the  men  under  him, 
glanced  at  his  well-kept  nails,  polished  them  on  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat,  then  leaned  back,  his  knees 
crossed,  and  waited  for  Colt  to  speak. 

Colt  did.  "Well,  what  have  you  got  to  say?" 
Decker,  who  was  all  nerves  and  on  the  edge  of  a 
breakdown,  jumped,  but  Rogers  ventured  nothing. 
Pattison  smiled  comfortably  and  scratched  a  match 
before  replying. 

"Someone's  been  getting  the  stock  for  him — sev- 
eral agents  it  seems — slickest  thing  I've  seen  put 
over  on  Bethel  Steel  in  many  a  day." 

Colt  turned  on  him  with  a  snarl.  "So  you  think 
it's  a  joke?" 

Pattison  shrugged.  "What  can  you  do?  He's 
got  a  foothold  now  with  the  stock  he  holds — but 
that  isn't  all  he  has  by  a  long  shot " 

Rogers  leaned  forward,  suddenly  alert.  "You  bet 
it  isn't.  Why,  he  has  every  man  in  the  Works  swear- 
ing by  him,  ready  to  lay  down  their  tools  and  walk 
out  at  the  lifting  of  his  finger — goes  down  and  talks 
to  them  like  a  regular  fellow — it  isn't  the  stock  he 
owns  that  I'm  afraid  of — or  the  fact  that  he's  put- 


156  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ting  up  a  barn  of  a  house  next  door  to  mine — al- 
though heaven  only  knows  what  we're  coming  to — 
but  it's  his  influence  over  the  hands  that  makes  him 
dangerous." 

Colt  glared  at  him.  "What  can  he  do — it's  just 
talk — talk — made  a  lot  of  money  and  wants  to  show 
the  men  he's  got  education  besides.  Show  off  his 
new  clothes  and  his  new  manners — run  him  out  of 
town,  I  say " 

Decker  stirred  nervously.  "If  I  may  say  a  word, 
Colt,"  he  ventured.  Colt  swung  around  on  him. 

"Say  a  word — of  course  you  can.  What  do  you 
suppose  I  asked  you  to  come  here  for?" 

Pattison  grinned,  but  Decker  flushed  painfully — 
cleared  his  throat.  "I  heard  him  speak  two  nights 
ago.  I  was  passing  Union  Hall  when  sounds  of 
cheering  reached  me — such  cheering  as  I'd  never 
heard  before.  I  really  thought  the  roof  would  come 
off — I  stopped  my  car  a  short  distance  up  the  road 
and  turned  up  my  collar  and  pulled  down  my  hat." 

"The  devil  you  did?"  cried  Colt.  "Well,  that 
was  very  bright  of  you,  Decker — very.  Never  knew 
it  was  in  you  to  mix  with  the  hoi  polloi." 

Decker  flushed  again,  and  continued.  "I  climbed 
the  stairs  to  the  room  above,  which  was  packed — 
men  everywhere — on  window  ledges — on  chairs — 
never  saw  so  many — and  this  fellow  was  speaking  to 
them — shouting  at  them — calling  them  to  follow 
him." 


A  Rising  Storm  157 

"Well,  what  did  he  say,  Decker,  what  did  he 
say?" 

"He  said  a  share  of  the  profits  should  be  theirs — 
that  they  were  fools  to  let  us  pay  them  a  low  scale  of 
wages  for  the  work  they  did — I  remember  one  thing 
he  said  that  struck  me  as  very  potential.  'Are  you 
doing  good  work?'  he  asked  them,  and  they  shouted, 
'No  !  no  !'  and  then  he  asked  them:  'Are  you  turning 
out  good  steel?"  and  again  they  shouted,  'No!'  I 
thought  it  exceedingly  illuminating — they  are  evi- 
dently very  slack  over  at  the  Works — the  foremen, 
I  mean — I  think  a  few  changes " 

Colt  brought  down  his  fist.  "Haven't  we  changed 
and  changed — and  weeded  until  only  a  handful  of 
the  old  men  remain — haven't  we  put  in  efficiency  ex- 
perts to  see  where  the  leaks  were — and  what's  hap- 
pened— less  work  done  than  ever  before — years  be- 
hind with  orders — complaints  that  the  workmanship 
isn't  up  to  par — goods  shipped  back — that's  what 
we're  up  against — cancelled  orders — broken  con- 
tracts— and  there  isn't  a  foreman  in  the  whole  plant 
can  make  the  men  buck  up — and  now  this — this  ex- 
workman  arrives  in  Bethel — and  instead  of  settling 
down  with  the  money  he's  made  out  of  us — instead 
of  trying  to  live  down  his  past  and  act  like  a  gentle- 
man— he  goes  straight  to  the  Works " 

"He  does  more  than  that,"  broke  in  Pattison,  "he 
jumps  in  now  and  then  and  shows  the  green  men  how 
to  handle  their  tools — why,  they  idolize  him  down 


158  The  Road  of  Ambition 

there — they  tell  stones  about  his  kindness — of  his 
gifts  to  the  poor,  to  the  accident  cases — dangerous — 
why,  the  man  is  a  menace — a  menace  to  the  whole 
plant — and  to  cap  it  all  he  goes  ahead  and  buys 
Bethel  through  a  dozen  different  channels  so  that 
he'll  have  some  say  if  it  comes  to  a  show-down." 

Colt  flung  himself  to  his  feet. 

"We  can't  have  a  strike  now — it  would  mean 
ruin — ruin!  With  the  Great  Crucible  snapping 
up  all  our  cancellations  as  it  is — it's  Benson's 
fault — he's  the  one  who  started  this  man  upwards — 
might  have  known  the  scoundrel  would  bite  the  hand 
that  fed  him — we'll  see  about  this." 

He  rang.  Jenkins  appeared.  "Send  in  Benson," 
he  shouted. 

Benson  entered  slowly.  The  Big  Four  turned  to 
regard  him.  Colt  leaned  back,  his  eyes  half  shut. 

"Well,"  he  snarled,  "you've  got  us  in  a  nice 
fix."  Benson  stood  respectfully  before  his  chief,  and 
Colt  leaned  forward. 

"What  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself — eh? 
What  have  you  got  to  say  about  this  factory  hand 
who  is  trying  to  ruin  the  Bethel  Steel  Works — try- 
ing to  stir  up  trouble  to  show  his  authority — 
impudent  and  ungrateful,  I  call  it — but  it's  danger- 
ous, too — dangerous  at  this  time  and  you  know  it. 
What  do  you  mean  by  letting  it  go  on?" 

Benson  shook  his  head.  "Do  you  want  to  know 
what  I  really  think,  sir?" 


A  Rising  Storm  159 

"Do  I?"  sputtered  Colt.  "Of  course  I  do—why 
am  I  sitting  here — why  is  Mr.  Decker  and  Mr.  Pat- 
tison  and  Mr.  Rogers  sitting  here — why  have  we 
sent  for  you  to  come  here  to-day  ?  Go  on,  go  on — 
before  I  lose  my  temper." 

Benson  bowed.  "Very  well,  sir.  Then  my  opin- 
ion is  that  Bill  Matthews  has  no  intention  of  stirring 
up  trouble." 

Pattison  stared  at  him.  "What!"  he  gasped, 
"what!" 

Decker's  thin  little  face  became  more  pinched. 
"Surely  Benson,  you  have  not  come  under  this  man's 
curious  spell.  You  can  see  with  your  two  eyes  what 
damage  he  is  causing.  Surely  you  did  not  expect 
when  you  took  his  education  in  hand,  that  he  would 
come  back  here  and  try  to  instigate  revolt  among  the 
men." 

Benson  shook  his  head.  "No,  sir,  I  didn't  dream 
he'd  do  it.  There  is  not  a  man  in  ten  thousand  that 
would." 

Colt  regarded  him  closely.  "Just  what  do  you 
mean  by  that?"  he  snapped. 

Benson  turned  to  him.  "I  mean,  sir,  that  no  man 
I  know  would  have  the  courage  or  the  ambition  or 
the  sympathy  for  his  fellowmen  to  do  what  he's 
doing.  He  has  money  now — he  knows  the  good 
things  of  life  from  the  bad — he's  worked  hard  since 
he  was  a  boy  and  he  can  rest  and  play  and  take  no 
chance  of  being  ruined  if  he  wants  to — but  instead  of 


160  The  Road  of  Ambition 

that,  what  does  he  do — he  casts  aside  this  idle  life 
he's  been  leading — he  puts  on  old  clothes  and  goes 
down  to  the  Works — a  place  where  none  of  us  ever 
expected  to  see  him  again  and  starts  in  to  help  the 
men  as  they've  never  been  helped  before " 

"He's  posing — looking  for  political  power " 

Benson  shook  his  head.  "Any  other  man  but  Big 
Bill  might — but  not  he — just  loves  them,  that's  all 
— you  can't  keep  him  away  from  the  Works — and  as 
for  his  money — he  sees  in  it  a  way  of  helping  the 
men " 

Rogers  leaned  forward.  "And  you  can  say  this, 
Benson,  knowing  he  is  firing  the  men  with  all  sorts 
of  dangerous  notions?" 

Benson  hesitated.  "You  won't  agree  with  me,  sir, 
I  know,  when  I  tell  you  I  don't  think  them  danger- 
ous notions." 

Colt  swung  around.  "Benson,"  said  he  crisply, 
"you're  discharged.  We'll  look  for  your  resignation 
at  the  end  of  the  week.  We  don't  want  a  superin- 
tendent at  this  plant  who  holds  any  of  that  fellow's 
radical  ideas." 

Benson  bowed.  "Very  well,  sir,"  he  said.  Then 
he  turned  to  Rogers.  "I  should  suggest,  sir,  you're 
having  a  talk  with  him.  You'll  see  I'm  not  wrong," 
and  he  walked  out. 

There  was  a  long  silence — a  silence  broken  only 
by  the  sharp  click  of  Decker's  nails  on  the  table — a 
heavy  silence.  At  last  Colt  turned  on  him. 


A  Rising  Storm  161 

"For  God's  sake,  stop  that,"  he  shouted.  Decker 
sat  up,  startled.  Pattison  was  frowning. 

"I  think  you  did  wrong  to  fire  Benson,"  he  said 
at  length.  "He  is  the  best  man  we've  ever  had  on 
the  job." 

Colt  did  not  answer.  Suddenly,  Rogers  leaned 
forward. 

"Not  a  bad  idea  of  Benson's  to  see  this  fellow, 
eh?" 

Pattison  nodded.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we 
could  do  something  with  him — pay  him  off — what 
do  you  say?" 

Decker  hesitated.  "I  saw  him,  you  know — he's — 
he's  very  powerful " 

Colt  whirled.  "The  next  thing  you  know,  Decker, 
you'll  be  telling  us  you  believe  his  rot  about 
profit  sharing — profit  sharing,  of  all  the  torn-foolish- 
ness— how  could  you  make  a  system  of  that  kind; 
in  one  department,  quality  counts,  in  another,  quan- 
tity, in  another,  economy  and  efficiency — can  you 
make  a  system  to  fit  them  all?  I  say  no — no — No  I" 

Rogers  persisted  gently,  "Let's  have  him  over! 
It's  better  to  give  him  the  facts  straight.  What  do 
you  say?" 

Colt  glared  at  him.  "Have  him  over !  Have  that 
puddler — or  whatever  he  was — think  we  believe  him 
of  sufficient  importance  to  interview — no — he's  bad 
enough — but  once  he  gets  it  into  his  head  that  the 
Big  Four  are  afraid  of  him,  he'll  strut  around  like 


162  The  Road  of  Ambition 

a  peacock  for  the  rest  of  his  life — no,  ignore  him — 
ignore  him  and  the  men  who  follow  him !  Kick  them 
out  of  the  Works — chase  them  and  their  families  out 
of  town — he's  a  revolutionary — a  socialist — a  dis- 
turber of  the  peace — this  is  the  worst  thing  we've 
ever  encountered — something  must  be  done  at 
once!" 

Pattison  shook  his  head.  "I'm  afraid  Benson's 
going  will  make  trouble,  a  new  superintendent  coming 
in  just  at  this  time  will  start  the  very  dickens  of  a 
row.  I  agree  with  Rogers,  we  ought  to  see  this  man 
and  have  it  out  with  him." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Decker,  suddenly.  "It's  the  only 
thing  to  do." 

Colt  glared  at  them,  his  shoulders  hunched,  his 
face  ugly. 

"Very  well,  have  him  over — have  him  over,"  he 
growled. 

Pattison  rose.  "Between  us  we  ought  to  be  able 
to  make  him  keep  his  meddling  fingers  out  of  Bethel 
Steel  for  all  time,"  said  he. 

Rogers  nodded,  but  Colt  turned  on  them. 

"It's  a  mistake — understand — a  mistake,  and 
you'll  find  it  out,  mark  my  words — but  have  it  your 
own  way "  and  he  dismissed  them. 

Bill's  office  was  a  shabby  group  of  rooms  in  a  loft 
on  Factory  Street.  May  had  pleaded  with  him  to 
take  a  suite  in  the  new  office  building  erected  in 


A  Rising  Storm  163 

Bethel  Proper — had  tried  to  argue  him  into  living 
at  the  Bethel  Inn,  but  had  failed  as  signally  as  she 
had  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  his  business.  It  was 
curious — his  manner  of  refusing  her — he  did  it  with 
a  charm,  a  deference — considering  all  her  argu- 
ments carefully — but  telling  her  with  a  firmness 
which  brooked  no  argument  that  he  was  going  to  do" 
what  he  had  set  out  to — to  help  the  men — not  only 
the  laborers  but  the  bosses — turn  out  the  best  the 
plant  was  capable  of — a  best  which  no  other  works 
in  the  country  could  hope  to  equal — a  best  which 
would  make  the  nation  point  to  Bethel  as  its  proud- 
est steel  center. 

May's  first  fury — first  rage  of  disappointment — 
was  rapidly  vanishing.  In  place  of  it  came  a  sort  of 
astonished  realization  that  she  was  regarded  by 
Bethel's  First  Families — still  at  a  distance  to  be  sure 
— as  a  sort  of  heroine;  the  discoverer  of  a  great  fig- 
ure— a  giant  of  industry.  Bill's  name  crept  into 
Bethel's  newspapers — his  exploits — his  charities. 
He  paid  to  keep  it  out — and  even  that  was  duly  re- 
corded by  a  zealous  reporter. 

Bethel,  indignant  at  first,  became  feverishly  in- 
terested in  this  newest  seventh  wonder — a  man  who 
had  cleaned  up  a  fortune  but  who  scorned  spending 
it  on  himself — who  did  not  fawn  for  favors — nor 
seek  the  society  of  the  First  Families — who  was  con- 
tent to  live  in  Newcomb's  house  while  a  mansion  fit 
for  a  king  was  rising  for  him  on  Bethel's  hilltop. 


164  The  Road  of  Ambition 

There  was  something  arresting  about  a  figure  of 
this  sort — something  which  made  Bethel's  jaded 
matrons  nudge  and  whisper  as  he  passed  them  on  the 
street — on  horseback  or  in  his  motor,  or  more  often 
on  foot.  He  was  certainly  big  and  good  to  look 
upon — he  answered  quietly  and  correctly  when 
spoken  to.  He  was  neither  afraid  nor  anxious  to 
be  addressed.  He  was  without  question  making  his- 
tory. It  was  even  rumored  the  Big  Four  feared  him 
— were  ready  to  come  to  terms. 

May's  comfortable  pride  gave  way  gradually  to 
a  feeling  of  uneasiness — uneasiness  lest  this  golden 
prize — a  prize  now  ten  times  worth  the  winning 
— should  escape  her.  That  he  was  regarded  in 
Bethel  as  her  property  without  question  she  knew — 
but  she  was  afraid — always  afraid  of  some  woman 
in  his  past  rising  and  confronting  him  again — calling 
him  to  her — claiming  him  as  hers. 

Benson  found  Bill  at  an  old-fashioned  rolltop 
desk,  piled  high  with  papers — estimates — embryo 
schemes.  Old  Mack  beside  him  sorted  and  de- 
stroyed them  at  his  command.  When  Benson  en- 
tered, Bill  pushed  back  the  letters  and  sprang  up. 

"Well,  what  did  they  want?" 

Benson  smiled.  "They're  worried  about  you,  Bill 
— going  to  run  you  out  of  town — and  the  whole 
Works  with  you — fact  is,  you've  got  them  guessing 
and  they  wrant  to  see  you." 

Bill  grinned.     "Want  to  see  me,  do  they?    Well, 


A  Rising  Storm  165 

it's  because  of  something  you've  said  to  them.  I'll 
bet  on  that.  How  about  it?" 

Benson  shook  his  head.  "It's  the  complaints 
they've  been  getting  that's  scaring  them." 

Bill  smiled.  "So  they  want  me  to  come  to  them, 
do  they?  To  put  me  through  a  third  degree — with 
Colt  himself  as  the  judge  and  jury.  Well,  Benson,  I 
won't  go !  No,  sir !  if  they  want  to  see  me — if  they 
want  to  learn  what  I  and  my  men  mean,  Colt  and 
the  rest  of  them  will  come  here.  I  can  talk  to  them 
then.  I  can  be  myself — but  in  a  mahogany  office — 
with  Turkish  rugs — why,  Benson,  I  couldn't  speak 
my  mind,  if  I  did  the  paper'd  peel  off  the  walls!" 

Benson  stared  at  him.  "You  don't  mean  that, 
Bill.  The  Big  Four  never  come  to  a  man — that's  ex- 
pected of  you " 

Bill  nodded.  "Of  course  it  is.  They  think  I'll 
crawl  to  them — lick  their  boots.  They  think  I'm  a 
four-flusher,  and  you  know  it.  But  I'm  not  afraid 
of  them — I'm  not  afraid  of  them  because  I've  got  a 
system  worked  out  that's  going  to  help  them  just  as 
much  as  it's  going  to  help  every  last  man  in  the 
Works,  and  if  it's  worth  hearing — it's  worth  coming 
here  to  hear.  Do  you  get  me?" 

Benson  shook  his  head.  "Don't  go  it  too  strong, 
Bill.  Colt's  got  it  in  for  you.  I'd  hate  to  see  you 
lose  out." 

But  Mack  broke  in  with  a  chuckle.  "The  guys  in 
Big  Bill's  crew  used  to  say  as  how  there  weren't 


i66  The  Road  of  Ambition 

nothin'  he'd  set  out  to  do  he  didn't  put  through. 
Blest  if  I  don't  think  the  whole  four  of  'em  '11  be 
pilin'  down  here  afore  a  week's  out." 

Bill  slapped  his  shoulder.  "Sure  they  will, 
Mack.  Why  not?  This  may  not  be  up  to  their 
Board  room,  but  we'll  be  glad  to  see  them  for  all 
that.  The  point  is,  we  have  something  to  tell  them 
they  want  to  hear.  They'll  come !" 

Benson  shook  his  head.  "They'll  try  to  smash 
you,  Bill,  just  as  they're  trying  to  smash  me " 

"You  I"  shouted  Bill. 

Benson  bowed  his  head. 

Bill  caught  his  breath.  "So  they've  canned  you — 
have  they?  Canned  the  best  man  they  ever  had  at 
the  Works — and  just  because  you  stood  by  me,  eh? 
Well,  by  Jiminy,  they'll  take  you  back.  Yes,  take 
you  back  with  an  increase  in  salary.  That's  the  first 
thing  they'll  do.  Don't  worry  about  it — don't  think 
about  it — you'll  be  on  the  job  inside  of  ten  days." 

Mack  rubbed  his  hands  together.  "Don't  worry, 
Mr.  Benson,"  he  echoed,  "it'll  come  out  as  Bill  says, 
wait  and  see  if  it  don't!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

A    BATTLE   OF   WITS 

E  thing  that  made  the  Big  Four  come  to  Bill 
was  the  Rosinoff  cancellation.  They  cursed 
his  impertinence  for  a  week — they  ordered  changes 
at  the  Works,  which  went  into  effect  at  once — they 
gave  the  new  superintendent  full  authority  to  drive 
the  men  to  the  limit — all  of  which  resulted  in  the  fif- 
teen thousand  hands  of  the  Bethel  Steel  Works,  for 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  plant,  laying  down 
their  tools  on  Friday  evening  and  assuring  their  re- 
spective bosses  they  had  no  intention  of  returning  to 
work  if  they  stayed  out  all  of  the  fall,  winter  and 
spring. 

This  overwhelming  catastrophe,  in  the  face  of  a 
mountain  of  unfilled  orders,  plunged  the  Big  Four 
and  the  men  under  them  into  a  sweeping  panic  and 
sent  the  stock  tumbling.  A  strike  at  this  time  spelled 
ruin — in  capital  letters,  too — and  to  cap  it  all,  the 
Rosinoffs — agents  of  the  Russian  government — can- 
celled the  largest  order  ever  placed  with  Bethel — a 
loss  which  ranged  somewheres  in  the  neighborhood 
of  seventy  millions — cancelled  on  the  ground  that 
arms  shipped  had  proved  of  inferior  steel — to  quote 
167 


i68  The  Road  of  Ambition 

their  American  representative,  "were  of  rotten 
stuff." 

Something  had  to  be  done — and  done  at  once,  but 
it  became  evident  that  armed  violence  would  meet 
any  attempt  of  the  strikebreakers,  the  police,  or  the 
Citizens  Committee  of  Vigilantes  to  re-light  the  fur- 
naces, now  smoking  ashes — to  start  the  mighty  ma- 
chinery, now  stilled  for  the  first  time  since  the  open- 
ing of  the  Works. 

The  Big  Four  called  a  meeting  of  its  directors 
and  laid  before  them  the  conditions,  not  forgetting 
to  denounce  the  man  whose  influence  they  felt  was 
responsible  for  the  revolt.  Colt  addressed  them 
crisply. 

"A  committee  of  laborers  called  on  Acting  Super- 
intendent Brady,  and  as  spokesman,  chose  this  man 
Matthews.  Brady,  in  accordance  with  our  orders, 
refused  to  deal  with  him  or  with  any  committee  while 
he  was  present,  saying  that  Bethel  Steel  would  not 
recognize  any  outsider  in  dealing  with  its  own  em- 
ployees. The  committee  withdrew  and  the  men  be- 
came more  threatening — more  unmanageable.  We 
concluded  to  see  this  man  Matthews  alone,  and  find 
out  what  he  wanted,  so  we  sent  for  him,  but  instead 
of  coming,  he  refused — refused  point  blank — told  us 
to  come  to  him,  instead." 

"And  what  did  you  do?"  Archibald  Coxe,  the 
largest  stockholder  in  three  states,  had  shouted. 
"What  did  you  do?" 


A  Battle  of  Wits  169 

"Do,"  thundered  Colt,  purple  of  face.  "Why, 
told  him  to  go  to  the  deuce,  of  course  I" 

Coxe  rose.  "Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "the  sooner 
you  get  off  your  high  horse  and  look  facts  in  the 
face,  the  better.  If  the  one  way  to  save  Bethel  Steel 
from  devastation  is  to  see  this  fellow — go  see  him. 
You  admit  he's  a  power — you  admit  he's  the  man 
behind  the  guns — very  well,  then,  the  thing  to  do  is 
to  find  out  what  he  wants — and  to  give  it  to  him, 
whatever  it  is!  Are  you  going  to  stand  around  like 
a  lot  of  sulky  school  boys  and  refuse  to  admit  you're 
beaten?  Beaten!  Why,  you're  licked  to  a  pulp — 
and  what's  more — he's  got  the  whip  handle !  For- 
get who  you  are — and  remember  only  that  the 
Bethel  Steel  Works  of  America  have  got  to  resume 
business  or  go  to  the  wall !  Go  to  him.  .  .  .  !  Why, 
you're  lucky  he'll  see  you  at  all,  after  the  way  you've 
treated  him,  if  you  want  my  opinion !" 

Rogers  sprang  to  his  feet.  "I'm  with  you  there, 
Coxe,"  he  said.  "I'll  go  for  one." 

"And  I,"  shouted  Pattison. 

"And  I,"  echoed  Decker. 

Colt  glared  at  them,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  his  breath- 
ing heavy. 

"Go  !"  he  shrieked.  "I'd  rather  see  the  Works  in 
smoking  ruins  than  put  my  foot  inside  that  pup's 
office!" 

Coxe  rose.  "If  you  three  gentlemen  will  proceed 
at  once,  you  can,  I  believe,  meet  his  requests  with  the 


170  The  Road  of  Ambition 

sound  judgment  you  have  shown  in  all  matters.    My 
car's  at  the  door." 

Mack  ushered  them  into  the  shabby  little 
office. 

"Here's  three  of  'em,  Bill,"  he  whispered  shrilly. 
Bill  rose  and  faced  them.  Pattison  came  forward. 

"I'm  Pattison.  This  is  Mr.  Rogers  and  Mr. 
Decker.  Mr.  Colt  was  detained  in  conference  and 
unable  to  come." 

Bill  smiled  a  trifle.  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  you, 
gentlemen,"  he  said  simply.  "Won't  you  be  seated?" 

They  were  a  little  taken  aback  at  his  manner. 
They  had  expected  something  quite  different — what, 
they  scarcely  knew — a  certain  coarseness  and  swag- 
ger which  was  not  there. 

"You  wished  to  see  me?"  he  prompted.  Pattison 
cleared  his  throat. 

"Matthews,"  he  said,  "the  men  have  gone  out. 
It's  the  most  serious  situation  we've  ever  faced.  It 
may  mean  ruin  for  us  all — you  along  with  us.  Have 
you  thought  of  that?" 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  believe  I  have," 
said  he.  "There  have  been  so  many  other  things  to 
consider." 

"What  do  you  mean?"    Bill  leaned  forward. 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you,  Mr.  Pattison,  that  this 
has  been  the  most  prosperous  year  you  and  your 
partners  have  ever  known?  That  the  money  you'll 


A  Battle  of  Wits  171 

make  once  your  orders  are  paid  in  full  will  put  you 
in  a  class  by  yourselves  as  money  kings?" 

Pattison  shrugged.     "What  of  it?" 

"Just  this.  You  haven't  stopped  to  figure,  have 
you,  that  every  dollar  you'll  make  depends  not  so 
much  on  your  own  work  as  on  the  labor  of  some 
man  in  your  factory? — a  cog  in  the  machinery — but 
an  essential  part  just  the  same." 

Pattison  frowned.     "What  are  you  driving  at?" 

"Don't  you  suppose  that  these  men  you  employ 
— the  Greeks  and  Polocks  and  Russians  and  Ger- 
mans and  Scandinavians  all  know  that  you  are  piling 
up  gold — nobody  tells  them — but  they  guess  by  the 
extra  pressure  put  on  them — eleven-hour  shifts — al- 
ways the  cry  for  work — work — more  work " 

"We  pay  for  overtime." 

"Yes,  you  pay  for  overtime,  but  you  don't  stop  to 
consider  that  the  unskilled  workman  can't  live  on  his 
wages  to-day.  Do  you  know  that  during  the  past 
year  the  cost  of  food — of  clothing — of  household 
effects,  have  gone  up  forty  per  cent — and  that  wages 
have  gone  up  only  twenty-five?  Why,  the  cost  of 
living  has  jumped  so  high  that  your  men  can  barely 
exist  on  the  money  they  are  receiving!" 

Pattison  shrugged.  "That's  Socialism — rank  So- 
cialism." 

Bill  swung  about.  "Then  I'd  like  to  ask  you  what 
you  call  blacklisting  workmen — forbidding  them  to 
organize — forbidding  them  to  write  and  speak  their 


172  The  Road  of  Ambition 

opinions — forcing  them  to  vote  against  their  con- 
victions— denying  them  the  due  process  of  the  law 
— what  do  you  gentlemen  call  that?  I  call  it  plain 
anarchy!" 

Pattison  stared  at  him.  "We  resent  that,  Mr. 
Matthews;  we  have  always  tried  to  be  fair  to  our 
hands—" 

Bill  laughed,  but  his  face  was  dangerous.  "Fair ! 
Do  you  call  it  fair  to  pay  the  men  who  slave  for 
you  the  same  amount  at  the  end  of  the  week  as  you 
pay  the  slackers?  Do  you  call  it  fair  to  turn  off 
old  and  tried  workmen — yes,  throw  them  into  the 
gutter — fellows  who  have  served  you  faithfully  for 
a  lifetime?" 

"There  is  so  much  to  be  done,"  said  Rogers, 
crisply;  "we  must  have  men  who  are  able  to  do 
it " 

Bill  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Men,  did  you  say? 
That's  you're  trouble,  Mr.  Rogers — yours  and  the 
rest  of  your  crew — you  have  men — though  you'd 
like  to  forget  it — men  with  bodies  and  brains,  that 
can  stand  so  much  and  no  more — and  because  they 
are  men  they  see  the  injustice  of  your  methods ! 

"I  tell  you,  they're  sick  of  living  in  three-room  ten- 
ements with  the  only  furniture  a  bed,  three  chairs 
and  a  stove  and  a  table — sick  of  being  herded  to- 
gether like  cattle — nine  or  ten  of  them  in  a  room 

Have  you  ever  thought  of  that,  Mr.  Rogers  ?  Have 
you  ever  wondered  how  they  got  water  to  wash  with 


A  Battle  of  Wits  173 

— you,  with  your  luxurious  baths  and  pools — well, 
I'll  tell  you — there's  a  pump — a  pump  three  flights 
down — that's  how  they  live.  Why  in  God's  name 
don't  you  provide  decent  homes  for  your  workmen? 
I'll  tell  you  why — because  you  forget  they  are  men. 
Yes,  Mr.  Rogers,  that's  your  mistake — yours  and 
the  rest  of  the  owners' — that  you  employ  men  to  do 
your  work  instead  of  iron  and  steel " 

Rogers  stared  at  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  heavily, 
"what  do  you  want  us  to  do?" 

Bill  brought  down  his  fist.  "There's  just  one 
thing  to  do — one  thing  that  will  send  every  man  back 
on  his  job  and  make  him  work  as  he  has  never 
worked  before — share  your  profits — I'll  show  you 
how — and  you'll  find  the  result  will  be  a  grade  of 
work  that  will  force  you  to  enlarge  your  plant  again 
to  fill  your  orders — and  when  you  are  through  with 
that,  clean  up  the  Factory  Street  slums — and  turn 
your  workmen  into  human  beings  instead  of 
swine!" 

"You  seem  mighty  sure  of  it!"  growled  Pattison. 

Bill  smiled.  "Why  shouldn't  I  be?  I  worked  at 
the  mill  for  fifteen  years — I  tell  you  I'd  give  my  life 
for  Bethel  Steel — why,  it's  the  greatest  plant  in  the 
country — and  there's  one  way  to  keep  it  that — let 
every  man,  from  your  moulders'  apprentice  to  your 
president,  feel  he's  a  real  part  of  the  organization 
— that  he'll  be  paid,  and  paid  well,  for  doing  twice, 
or  three  times  as  much  as  the  next  fellow — let  him 


174  The  Road  of  Ambition 

have  something  to  show  for  the  product  he  turns 
out  skillfully  with  his  hands,  or  with  his  brain — 
do  you  know  what  the  result  will  be  ?  The  men  will 
go  back  to  work  with  a  snap  that'll  put  Bethel  Steel 
on  top  of  the  heap  again — and,  what's  more,  keep 
it  there!"  He  drew  in  his  breath  sharply.  "My 
God!  I  wish  I  had  the  chance  to  do  it!"  Then  he 
shook  his  head.  "I'm  through,"  he  told  them; 
"that's  all  I've  got  to  say." 

Their  silence  was  impressive.  At  last  Pattison 
rose.  "We  will  report  on  your  plan  to  the  directors. 
They  will  act  on  it.  Should  it  be  adopted  we  shall 
ask  you  to  demonstrate  its  practicability;  should  it 
be  rejected,  we  shall  consider  the  matter  closed." 

Bill  bowed.  After  they  had  gone,  he  stood  a  long 
while  by  the  window  staring  at  the  Works — a  black 
silhouette  against  a  vivid  sky — shot  with  the  red 
of  a  June  sunset.  Strangely  still  they  appeared — no 
glow  from  the  furnaces — no  spiral  of  smoke  from 
their  chimneys — but  before  them,  pacing  back  and 
forth  like  tired  sentinels,  tramped  the  pickets  on 
guard — their  gun-barrels  now  and  then  catching  the 
glint  of  the  sun. 

Mack  touched  his  arm.     "Comin'?" 

Bill  nodded. 

They  turned  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  street 
without  speaking.  The  sky  had  deepened  into  a  pur- 
ple haze.  A  group  of  men  hurried  up  to  Bill  with 
eager  questions.  He  shook  his  head. 


A  Battle  of  Wits  175 

"You'll  know  before  long,  boys,"  he  said;  "leave 
it  to  me." 

At  the  corner  he  collided  sharply  with  some  one 
— a  big  man,  his  hat  pulled  well  down  over  his  eyes. 
When  he  had  gone  on  his  way  with  a  mumbled  apol- 
ogy Bill  turned  to  Mack.  "Who  was  that?" 

Mack  grinned.  "Didn't  you  see,  Bill?  That  were 
Dugan — the  Party  Boss  himself." 

Bill  stared  after  him.  "So  it  is.  What's  he  doing 
around  here,  I  wonder?" 

Mack  chuckled.  "They  say  there  ain't  nothin' 
Dugan  don't  know  about.  Looks  to  me  like  he's 
got  his  eye  on  you!" 

Bill  laughed.  "You'll  have  him  making  me  Pres- 
ident next,"  he  said. 

Mack  wagged  his  head  wisely.  "Dugan  don't 
never  come  round  for  nothin',"  said  he;  "not  if  I 
know  what's  what,  he  don't!" 

Exactly  ten  days  after  the  men  had  marched  out 
of  the  yard  of  the  Bethel  Steel  Works  in  a  body  they 
returned  to  their  jobs.  Benson  was  reinstated  as 
superintendent  and  the  newspapers  all  over  the  coun- 
try gave  unlimited  space  and  scare  headlines  to  the 
amazing  concessions  which  had  been  granted  by  the 
Company. 

But  the  eyes  of  all  Bethel  were  fastened  upon  the 
man  who  had  wrought  the  miracle — who  had  brought 
about  a  system  which  made  it  possible  for  a  me- 


176  The  Road  of  Ambition 

chanic — given  a  certain  piece  of  work  to  do  and  an 
allotted  time  to  do  it — to  make  his  regular  wage  and 
to  receive  a  bonus  as  well  for  completing  it  accord- 
ing to  schedule — even  wheeling  a  barrow  or  handling 
a  shovel,  came  under  the  new  profit-sharing  plan. 

In  the  departments  where  quality  counted — the 
open-hearth  work,  for  instance,  or  the  treating  of 
armor  plate — the  men  were  paid  by  basing  the  com- 
putations on  tests  of  steel. 

Nor  was  that  by  any  means  the  end  of  the  system 
which  revolutionized  Bethel  Steel.  The  men  who 
got  results  with  less  than  the  regular  amount  of  fuel 
— the  men  who  handled  their  machines  so  that  the 
item  of  repair  was  very  low,  profited  accordingly. 

And  those  higher  up  came  in  on  the  scheme  as  well 
— every  penny  saved  from  the  normal  cost  of  oper- 
ation was  shared — the  more  money  the  Works  made 
the  more  its  employees  gained. 

Its  effect  was  colossal.  The  Big  Four,  skeptical 
and  bitter — forced  by  tremendous  pressure  on  all 
sides  to  yield  to  Matthews — grew  hourly  more  dazed 
by  the  amazing  results  his  method  secured.  Their 
confidence  in  him  became  so  supreme  that  they  gave 
him  unlimited  power  to  carry  his  reforms  into  effect 
— were  forced  to  bow  to  a  man  who  could  put 
through  a  plan  so  gigantic  and  far-reaching  that  one 
and  all  waxed  rich  on  it. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MAY    PLAYS    HER   TRUMPS 

"JV/TAY  found  herself  all  at  once  the  center  of 
•*•  Bethel's  social  whirl — the  woman  whom  Beth- 
el's Old  and  First  families  expected  to  share  the 
Matthews  fortune  and  name — Matthews,  now  a  na- 
tional figure !  She  had  never  dreamed  of  a  triumph 
so  great.  She  wished  with  all  her  heart  that  Bill 
would,  for  an  instant,  forget  the  business  which 
seemed  to  possess  him,  body  and  soul — would  forget 
the  thousand-and-one  questions  he  was  called  upon 
to  answer — disputes  to  settle — problems  to  solve — 
and  remember  that  it  was  high  time  he  asked  her 
to  marry  him. 

The  house  on  the  hill  was  rising  majestically. 
Rogers  no  longer  grumbled  about  its  proximity — 
was  proud  at  the  prospect  of  having  Matthews  for 
a  neighbor — proud  to  know  a  man  who  could  muster 
an  executive  ability  that  galvanized  those  about  him 
like  an  electric  battery. 

The  invitation  to  the  Colt  Charity  Ball  for  Beth- 
el's poor  came  in  the  early  mail.     It  was  the  great 
Colt's  open  acknowledgment  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
new  move — it  was  more  than  that — it  was  planned 
177 


178  The  Road  of  Ambition 

for  the  purpose  of  securing  for  his  son  Philip  the 
woman  he  desired — but  that,  of  course,  was  not  in 
evidence  upon  the  engraved  cards. 

May  read  it  with  an  anxious  frown.  Bill  would 
undoubtedly  be  the  center  of  attraction  at  the  bril- 
liant affair — would  be  sought  after  by  all  the  women 
of  Bethel  as  the  man  of  the  hour.  She  concluded 
that  her  only  safety  lay  in  securing  him  once  and 
for  all — not  that  he  had  ever  so  much  as  looked  at 
another  woman — but  you  never  could  tell. 

She  accepted  for  Bill  and  herself,  and  set 
herself  to  the  absorbing  and  fascinating  task  of  plan- 
ning her  costume.  She  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  must  be  something  costly,  yet  simple — something 
that  would  fitly  represent  the  triumph  which  would 

be  hers Oh,  yes,  she  would  bring  Bill  to  the 

point.  He  had  dallied  long  enough. 

Bill  sent  word  to  her  that  he  would  not  be  home 
until  late — not  to  wait  up  for  him.  She  did,  never- 
theless. She  let  him  in  herself  and  had  a  tasty  sup- 
per spread  out  for  him. 

He  ate  it  gratefully,  his  face  pinched  and  a  bit 
drawn  from  the  strain  of  the  past  weeks — but  his 
eyes  full  of  an  eager,  boyish  light. 

"It's  great,  May — simply  great — : —  Think  of  old 
Colt  and  the  rest  of  the  pirates  coming  across  like 
kings!  We've  got  a  group  of  model  houses 

planned I've  been  working  with  the  architect 

all  afternoon " 


May  Plays  Her  Trumps  179 

May  was  distinctly  bored.  She  wondered  if  he 
would  ever  talk  of  anything  save  his  renovated  slums. 
She  shrugged: 

"Well,  they  need  them  badly  enough,  although  I 
doubt  if  the  creatures  I  saw  on  Factory  Street  the 
day  you  dragged  me  down  there  will  know  enough 
to  look  after  them." 

She  regretted  thewords  the  second  they  had  passed 
her  lips. 

Bill  stared  at  her;  then  he  smiled. 

"You're  tired,  May,  sitting  up  for  me.  That's 
what  ails  you.  Just  let  me  tell  you  about  the  plans 
for " 

But  she  raised  her  hand.  "Not  another  word  until 
you're  through.  I  have  something  I  want  to  say  to 
you  then." 

When  he  had  finished  she  led  the  way  to  the  library 
— the  room  he  had  entered  for  the  first  time  almost 
a  year  ago.  It  showed  marks  of  prosperity,  just  as 
the  woman  by  his  side  bore  the  sign  of  the  dollar. 
The  hangings  were  rich,  the  furniture  costly,  the  cur- 
tains of  exquisite  lace — it  was  as  though  a  wand  had 
touched  the  run-to-seed  room  and  transformed  it  into 
a  bower. 

Bill  dropped  into  a  deep  chair  with  a  sigh  and 
closed  his  eyes.  She  studied  him  intently — curled  up 
on  the  corner  of  the  divan,  her  foot  tucked  under  her, 
her  sharp  little  chin  in  her  hand,  her  lips  snapped 
shut. 


180  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  looked  tired — terribly  tired.  There  were 
shadows  beneath  his  eyes  and  new  lines  on  his  face 
— lines  of  power,  to  be  sure — but  lines  just  the  same. 
He  was  working  too  hard — that  was  it — working 
when  he  no  longer  needed  to.  He  was  rich  beyond 
all  his  dreams  or  hers — he  was  general  manager  of 
the  Works — and  yet,  not  content  with  accomplish- 
ing what  he  had  set  out  to  do,  he  must  tear  down  row 
after  row  of  grimy  tenements  for  the  benefit  of  a 
lot  of  vacant-eyed  foreigners.  What  could  he  hope 
to  gain  by  such  a  course?  It  never  occurred  to  May 
that  his  motive  might  be  one  of  humanity.  That 
was  not  in  her  creed. 

Well,  she  concluded,  whatever  he  intended  doing 
— she  was  going  to  have  him  for  hers — to  end  this 
suspense — then  she  would  at  least  be  mistress  of  the 
house  on  the  hill,  and  he  could  delve  among  his  de- 
serving poor  as  much  as  he  pleased ! 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  at  her.  "It's  good 
to  be  home,"  he  sighed,  stretching  luxuriously;  then: 
"Well,  what's  on  your  mind,  May?" 

She  traced  a  pattern  on  her  gown.  "Colt's  giving 
a  ball,"  she  said,  without  looking  up. 

He  laughed.  "Is  that  all?  I  suppose  you're 
going,  eh?" 

She  nodded.    "And  so  are  you." 

But  Bill  shook  his  head.  "No  parties  for  me. 
I've  got  just  about  all  I  can  do  as  it  is  without  get- 
ting into  evening  clothes  yet  awhile." 


May  Plays  Her  Trumps          181 

She  looked  up  quickly.  "Oh,  but  you  must — you 
don't  understand.  Colt  is  giving  it  for  you — for 
your  work — it's  a  Charity  Ball  for  Bethel's  poor." 

He  clapped  his  hand  on  his  knee.  "No !"  he 
cried;  "you  don't  mean  it!  For  Bethel's  poor?  Well, 
I  call  that  immense !  Think  of  the  chief  doing  that 
for  me  1  I  tell  you,  May,  the  Big  Four  are  all  right 
— I  always  said  the  trouble  with  the  rich  was  not  so 
much  that  they  were  wilfully  deaf  as  that  they  were 
born  with  cotton  wadding  in  their  ears  to  avoid  hear- 
ing all  unpleasant  sounds.  Once  they  take  out  the 
stuffing  and  listen  to  the  needs  of  the  people  they're 
princes!" 

May  nodded.  "Yes,  I  think  it  is  very  nice  of 
him I  suppose  all  Bethel  will  be  there." 

He  nodded,  and  a  silence  fell.  May  clasped  her 
hands  tightly,  her  lithe  little  body  suddenly  tense. 
"They're  so  interested  in  everything  you  do  here, 
Bill," — he  laughed,  but  she  insisted — "They  are,  and 
you  know  it — and,  naturally,  in  me,  too — I  mean, 
simply  because  you  live  here." 

She  watched  him  closely,  but  he  was  staring  over 
her  head  at  the  wall,  no  doubt  figuring  the  cost  of 
some  beastly  improvement  or  other!  She  bit  her 
red  lips.  Probably  hadn't  heard  half  she  was  say- 
ing when  she  was  trying  so  hard  to  tell  him — tell  him 
what?  That  he  must  marry  her !  But  how? 

"Of  course,"  she  continued,  in  a  low  voice;  "of 
course,  it's  embarrassing  for  me  at  times " 


182  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Embarrassing?" 

At  last!  He  had  caught  that.  She  sighed  with 
relief.  It  was  going  to  be  easy,  after  all. 

"They  ask  so  many  questions,"  she  said,  plaintive- 
ly. "They  take  so  much  for  granted " 

He  frowned.  "I  don't  understand.  Take  what 
for  granted?" 

She  smiled  and,  leaning  forward,  laid  a  hand  on 
his  knee — 

"Dear,  stupid,  old  Bill! That  you're  going 

to  marry  me,  of  course !" 

He  started.  "May!  Do  you  mean — can  it  be 
that  those  impertinent  busybodies " 

She  smiled  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  lips.  "After 
all,  why  shouldn't  they  suppose  so,  Bill?  They  see 
us  everywhere  together — they  know  you  go  nowhere 
else." 

He  flung  himself  to  his  feet — pacing:  "To  think 
you've  been  annoyed  by  these " 

"But  what  if  I'm  not  annoyed " 

He  whirled.  "Not  annoyed!  Oh,  May, 
May "  he  stopped  short. 

She  smiled  again  and  shook  her  head.  "I  really 
think  it  would  be  rather  nice,  on  the  whole." 

"You  mean "  he  stammered,  growing  red  as 

a  schoolboy;  "you  mean  that  you'd — you'd " 

She  nodded.  "Of  course,  I  would!  Don't  you 
suppose  I'm  fond  of  you — and  you  will  need  some 
one  to  take  care  of  your  house "  She  stopped, 


May  Plays  Her  Trumps          183 

struck  by  something  in  his  face — consternation 

"May,"  he  said,  swiftly,  the  words  tumbling  over 
one  another;  "May,  I've — I've  never  thought  of  this 
before — I've  been  stupid — blind — engrossed  in  my 

affairs — while  you I  supposed  our  friendship 

could  go  on  forever — I  never  dreamed " 

She  ran  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
"Dear  old  Bill,"  she  said,  "don't  look  so  alarmed. 
I'm  merely  telling  you  what  Bethel  expects  you  to  do 
— what  it  has  made  very  plain  to  me — don't  think 
another  thing  about  it,  though — it  just  popped  out 
before  I  knew  it.  You  have  so  much  else  to  trouble 
you — it's  different  with  a  woman,  isn't  it?  Nothing 

else  really  matters  to  her  but  that I  shouldn't 

have  bothered  you — indeed  I  shouldn't — except  that 
— I  can't  bear  to  meet  their  questioning  looks  and 
shrugs — I  simply  can't — unless " 

And,  whirling,  she  ran  from  the  room. 

He  stood  like  one  turned  to  stone.  "May,"  he 
whispered  through  dry  lips — but  she  was  gone. 

What  a  blind  fool  he  had  been — what  a  colossal 
fool!  Of  course,  her  position  was  open  to  question 
— it  had  never  dawned  upon  him  before — little  May, 
who  had  stood  by  him  all  these  months — was  this 
the  way  to  repay  her?  Why  under  the  sun  had  he 

hesitated — why  hadn't  he  swept  her  to  him 

What  was  the  matter  with  him,  anyway?  He  had 
read  the  confession  in  her  eyes,  why  had  no  answer- 
ing light  sprang  to  his? 


184  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  plunged  his  hands  in  his  pocket — his  fingers 
touched  something — some  thing  he  always  carried 
with  him  as  a  sort  of  talisman.  He  drew  it  out.  It 
was  the  bracelet  with  the  jade  clasp.  He  stared  at 
it  grimly.  What  right  had  he  to  hold  fast  to  an 
image — a  dream-woman — when  the  place  in  his 
heart  should  be  May's — and  yet 

He  slipped  the  bracelet  back.  There  was  one 
thing  to  do.  He  must  do  his  duty  by  the  woman  who 
had  helped  him — the  woman  who  now  shrank  from 
sharp  questions — from  raised  eyebrows — poor  little 

May — he'd  settle  it  here  and  now He  raced 

up  the  stairs — he  rapped  on  her  door — she  flung  it 
open — and  he  held  out  his  hands. 

"I've  been  a  brute,  May,  if  you'll  take  me  I'll 
try  to  make  you  happy  to  the  end  of  your  days !" 

She  slipped  her  arms  about  his  neck.  "Dear  Bill," 
she  whispered. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

COLT   SETS   A   TRAP 

issued  but  one  command  in  regard  to  the 
ball:  No  expense  was  to  be  spared — aside 
from  that  he  washed  his  hands  of  it.  It  was  a  com- 
mand which  delighted  the  ears  of  Bethel's  matrons 
— it  gave  them  free  rein  to  produce  the  affair  on  the 
superlative  scale  they  desired — to  make  the  grounds 
and  the  house,  both  inside  and  out,  as  flagrantly  gor- 
geous as  the  decorator's  art  could  achieve. 

Bethel's  Younger  Set — the  daughters  of  the  Old 
and  First  Families,  hoisted  the  flag  of  truce  and  en- 
tered into  the  spirit  of  the  great  occasion  with  all 
the  snap  of  youth.  It  was  to  be  a  dream  of  Arabian 
nights  and  of  Babylon — come  true — a  Charity  Ball 
which  should  have  no  equal. 

The  hothouses  of  Bethel  yielded  their  treasures — 
that  Colt's  home  might  be  transformed  into  a  bower, 
and  Colt  Senior,  grimly  watching  the  men  at  work, 
and  hearing  the  hum  of  young  voices  in  his  rooms — 
the  laughter  and  shouts  as  rehearsals  proceeded,  felt 
eminently  satisfied.  Since  Bethel's  poor  was  to  be 
the  fad  of  the  season — due  to  the  interference  of 
one  of  its  sons — it  was  meet  and  right  that  the  brains 
of  the  Big  Four  should  lead  the  movement. 
185 


i86  The  Road  of  Ambition 

But  Colt  guarded  his  reflections  well — no  one 
should  ever  guess  that  he  hated  with  all  his  soul  the 
big  man  who  had  brought  it  about — hated  him,  yes, 
but  feared  him  as  well,  and  that  made  the  score 
against  Big  Bill  roll  even  higher.  Cyrus  P.  Colt 
had  never  feared  another  man  since  the  day  he  was 
born! 

When  Judge  Van  Steer  received  a  letter  from  Colt 
his  feeling  was  one  of  amazement —  That  was  it 
— overpowering  amazement.  It  was  the  first  letter 
from  that  source  in  many  a  year — the  only  one  in 
Colt's  own  unspeakable  scrawl. 

"Dear  Friend,"  it  ran,  in  the  queer,  cramped,  lit- 
tle hand.  "It  is  my  desire  to  make  this  occasion  the 
greatest  in  Bethel's  history;  for  that  reason  I  am 
asking  a  few  of  Bethel's  most  prominent  citizens  to 
serve  with  me  on  the  executive  committee — I  want 
you  to  head  it.  You  know  what  Van  Steer  stands  for 
in  this  community — I'd  be  proud  to  have  you  accept." 

The  Judge  read  the  note  over  twice.  He  was  puz- 
zled. Frankly  puzzled  at  its  contents ;  nothing  of  the 
sort  had  ever  before  reached  his  desk  during  the 
reign  of  the  Big  Four.  But  he  was  touched  as  well 
— it  was  decent  of  Colt — that  little  line  about  the 

Van  Steer  name He  could  do  next  to  nothing 

for  Bethel — if  serving  as  chairman  would  help 


Colt  Sets  a  Trap  187 

He  decided  not  to  mention  it  to  Daphne — she 
might  raise  a  host  of  objections.  Instead,  he  wrote 
a  formal  and  eloquent  reply  in  the  round,  beautiful 
hand  which  had  not  progressed  one  whit  beyond  the 
Civil  War  period.  He  dispatched  it  and  took  up 
Colt's  note  again.  "Dear  Friend,"  he  re-read.  It 
was  really  very  thoughtful  of  Colt,  but,  after  all,  a 
Van  Steer  was  a  Van  Steer — even  the  Big  Four  had 
to  grant  that — he  had  forgotten  how  many  years 
they  had  overlooked  the  fact. 

The  letter  acted  precisely  as  Colt  hoped  i:  would, 
and  when  he  summoned  Van  Steer  to  a  committee 
meeting — or,  rather,  begged  him  to  drop  in  and  give 
a  valuable  hint  or  two — the  Judge  donned  his  best 
suit,  took  up  his  hat  and  cane,  and  set  out  for  Colt's 
house — the  house  in  which  he  had  sworn  never  to 
set  foot  so  long  as  he  lived. 

Colt  was  awaiting  him  in  his  library.  There  was 
no  one  else  present.  The  Judge  looked  about  him 
with  polite  surprise,  but  Colt  waved  him  to  a  chair. 

"I  believe  we  two  can  decide  this,"  he  said  com- 
fortably. "Too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth.  What 
I  want  is  your  opinion,  Van  Steer — and  once  you've 
given  it  to  me,  I'll  pass  it  on  to  the  committee  as 
settled.  What  I  say  is,  pick  a  man  of  brains  for 
chairman  and  he'll  do  the  thinking  for  the  rest." 

The  Judge  was  subtly  flattered.  He  enjoyed  the 
insinuation — he  enjoyed  the  warm  luxury  of  Colt's 
library — he  inhaled  the  aroma  of  the  fine  cigar 


i88  The  Road  of  Ambition 

he  held  poised  in  his  fingers.     Colt  was  speaking. 

"We  want  an  address  made — an  address  to  the 
members  of  the  Laborers'  Union — something  about 
the  new  workmen's  village  to  be  built  in  Bethel — 
no  more  tenements — no  more  filth — six-room  houses 
— bath  and  electric  lights — won't  cost  'em  a  cent 
more  than  they're  paying,  either — six  dollars  a 
month — electricity,  four  cents  a  kilowatt — garden 
thrown  in  for  good  measure.  How's  that  for  philan- 
thropy, Van  Steer?  Can't  say  we  drive  'em  now, 
can  they?  Can't  say  we  crush  'em  under  our  heel?" 
He  paused,  smugly  satisfied. 

Van  Steer  stirred. 

"Magnificent,  Colt,  magnificent!  It's  this  Mat- 
thews' idea,  isn't  it?" 

Colt  frowned.  "Yes,"  he  conceded,  with  an  ef- 
fort. "His — and  mine." 

A  brief  silence  fell,  then  he  continued,  evenly: 
"The  address  must  be  made  by  the  right  man — some 
one  who  stands  for  something — who  will  stir  the 
people  by  his  presence — some  one  influential — mag- 
netic— cultured "  He  stopped  and  waited,  then : 

"Who  could  you  suggest?"  he  flung  at  the  Judge. 

Van  Steer  leaned  back,  his  fingers  joined.  It  was 
very  evident  that  he  had  some  one  in  mind,  but 
modesty  forbade  his  naming  him.  To  his  way  of 
thinking  there  was  but  one  eminently  fitted  for  the 
honor  of  addressing  the  factory  hands  of  the  Bethel 
Steel  Works — he  shook  his  head. 


Colt  Sets  a  Trap  189 

"I  couldn't  say  off  hand,"  he  parried. 

But  Colt  leaned  forward.  "I  can,"  he  said,  short- 
ly. "There's  just  one  man  to  do  it "  He  stopped 

and  waited. 

"Who?"  ventured  the  Judge. 

Colt  brought  down  his  fist:  "You,  Van  Steer — 
just  you  I" 

Van  Steer  started.  "Really,  Colt,  I  don't  be- 
lieve  " 

"It  doesn't  matter  what  you  believe — it's  what  you 
are  that  counts.  You're  Bethel's  leading  citizen — 
yes,  you  are — we  all  know  it.  We've  come  in  and 
done  a  thing  or  two  for  the  place,  but  you're  of  the 
stock  that  started  it — put  it  on  the  map — that's  what 
the  people  want — what  they  look  up  to — I  tell  you 
I'd  like  to  have  you  do  it  as  a  favor  to  me,  Van  Steer, 
if  not  for  the  other  reasons." 

Van  Steer  was  rigid.  Into  his  pale  lean  cheeks  the 
color  leaped,  the  blue  veins  at  his  temples  throbbed, 
his  eyes  glowed  with  a  warm,  deep  light. 

"Colt,  I  assure  you  I'm  honored,"  he  brought  out 
huskily;  "you've  made  me  very  proud  this  afternoon 
that  I  am  a  Van  Steer — prouder,  I  should  say,  than 
usual." 

Colt  nodded.  "You  ought  to  be  proud — finest 
name  in  the  countryside ;  what's  more,  it  ought  to  be 
kept  up — kept  up  in  the  old  style." 

"I  have  often  wished  it  were  possible,"  Van  Steer 
began. 


190  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Colt  rose  suddenly,  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  scowled.  He  took  one  or  two  quick  turns  up  and 
down  the  room,  then  stopped  abruptly  before  the 
Judge.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  would  be,  Van 
Steer,"  he  shot  at  him,  brows  drawn  together; 
"shouldn't  wonder  at  all  1"  Then :  "That's  a  mighty 
fine  daughter  you  have." 

Van  Steer  looked  up,  startled.  "Oh,  Daphne? 
Yes— Yes." 

Colt  smiled.  "Don't  mention  this  to  her — not  for 
the  world;  but  I  believe  she's  given  my  boy  hope 
— my  boy  Philip,  you  know." 

"Philip — Daphne "  gasped  Van  Steer.  "Oh, 

I  hardly  think  so — she  would  have  spoken  to  me — 
she " 

Colt  shook  his  head.  "No;  she  wouldn't — not 
yet — it's  rather  new,  the  whole  thing — my  boy  has 
only  just  hinted  to  me — he's  my  only  chick,  Van 
Steer — he'll  have  all  I  possess." 

The  Judge  rose,  too.  He  was  not  sure  what 
to  say.  He  was  a  little  afraid  of  this  powerful 
man  before  him — afraid  of  something  he  implied 
— it  sounded  like  a  bribe,  that  hint  of  the  wealth  to 
come.  He  drew  himself  up. 

"If  Daphne  loves  him — if  it  will  make  her  happy 
— I  shall  be  happy,  also,"  he  said. 

Colt  wrung  his  hand. 

"Fine — fine — but  don't  say  a  word  to  her — you 
know  how  young  things  are — easily  frightened — 


Colt  Sets  a  Trap  191 

she'll  come  to  you  about  it  before  long — they  always 
do.  Now,  if  she  had  had  a  mother,  why  you'd  have 
known  about  it  by  this  time — but  with  men,  they're 
queer " 

The  Judge  nodded.  Colt  no  doubt  was  right. 
Now  that  he  came  to  think  of  it,  he  had  seen  Philip 
around  a  good  bit.  He  was  under  the  impression 
that  Daphne  had  said  she  disliked  him — but  that  may 
have  been  fancy — there  were  so  many  others,  it  was 
no  doubt  one  of  those. 

"Little  Daphne  with  a  secret  from  me?"  he  mused. 

Colt  nodded.  "We  old  folks  mustn't  spoil  it,  eh, 
Van  Steer?  Just  keep  mum  till  she  says  the  word, 
then  tell  her  you  knew  it  all  the  time." 

He  patted  the  Judge's  arm  affectionately.  "I  tell 
you,  it  takes  our  kiddies  to  work  out  our  destiny  for 
us,  doesn't  it?" 

Van  Steer  nodded,  a  bit  dazed  by  it  all. 

Colt  continued,  warmly:  "That  makes  things  be- 
tween us  different,  doesn't  it?  Very  different.  I  sup- 
pose the  girl  will  want  a  big  wedding." 

"Of  course — of  course,"  the  Judge  agreed, 
rather  too  hastily. 

Colt  nodded.  "I  tell  you  when  a  Van  Steer  mar- 
ries, it's  something  of  an  occasion  in  Bethel " 

The  Judge  bowed. 

"The  Van  Steers  have  always  done  things  on  a 
big  scale." 

"That's  what  I've  heard,"  cut  in  Colt.     "Costs  a 


192  The  Road  of  Ambition 

lot  to  get  a  daughter  married  off  in  good  style  these 

days — regular  fortune "  He  stopped,  smiling 

broadly  at  the  Judge.  But  Van  Steer  was  not  smil- 
ing. His  particularly  fine,  thin  lips  were  tightly  com- 
pressed, as  though  a  phantom  had  been  rudely  raised 
— a  phantom  he  had  resolutely  banished.  Colt  took 
up  the  thread  where  he  had  dropped  it. 

"A  girl  must  have  clothes,  and  plenty  of  them — 
but  that's  not  all — no,  indeed — parties  galore,  and 
money  for  bridesmaids'  presents — take  it  all  and 
all,  it's  cheaper  to  have  a  son." 

Van  Steer  stiffened.  "Daphne  shall  have  as  fine 
a  wedding  as  I  can  give  her." 

Colt  had  moved  to  the  window,  his  face  partly 
turned  from  Van  Steer,  for  which  the  Judge  was 
grateful.  It  was  tender  ground  on  which  they  were 
treading — he  hoped  to  find  a  plausible  way  of  lead- 
ing the  conversation  into  more  agreeable  channels. 
Colt  toyed  with  the  shade  tassel  and  spoke  over  his 
shoulder. 

"Do  you  know  what  I'd  like  to  do,  Van  Steer? 
I'd  like  to  speak  out  my  mind  to  you  without  fear  of 
offense." 

Van  Steer  looked  up  quickly.  "I  don't  think  I 
quite  understand,"  he  said. 

Colt  turned  abruptly.  "It's  just  this :  I  want  you 
to  feel  free  to  call  upon  me — absolutely  free — 
should  you  need  any  financial  support.  Now  do  you 
understand?" 


Colt  Sets  a  Trap  193 

The  Judge  remained  rigid  as  a  bar  of  iron.  "I'm 
afraid  not,"  he  replied  slowly. 

Colt  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  see,  Van  Steer,  I  can't  help  knowing  how 
things  stand  with  you — and  they  shouldn't  stand  that 
way,  not  by  a  long  sight !  I  know  that  you  want  to 
do  things  in  tip-top  style — the  way  Van  Steer  al- 
ways put  across  an  affair.  Now,  then,  your  daugh- 
ter is  going  to  marry  my  son,  and  that  places  me  in 
a  position  where  I  can  talk  frankly.  What  I  want 
to  say  is  this:  You  can  call  on  me  for  any  amount 
that  will  see  you  through  comfortably.  I  know  your 
pride,  so  we'll  call  it  a,  loan — I'll  take  your  note  for 
it — do  it  any  way  you  please — but  let  me  help  you." 

That  was  all. 

Van  Steer  felt  the  hot  color  stinging  his  cheeks. 
He  moistened  his  lips — he  tried  to  speak,  but  the 
words  would  not  come — he  was  stunned  by  this  burst 
of  generosity — by  this  sudden  lifting  of  his  burden. 
He  had  wondered  how  on  earth  he  was  to  see  the 
matter  through — how  on  earth — with  nothing  left 
but  a  house  mortgaged  to  the  last  beam — and  here 
was  Colt  offering  him  money — on  preposterous  terms 
— knowing  that  he  could  never  repay  it,  and  yet 
pouring  it  into  his  hands — it  was  immense  of  him — 
it  was  princely! 

"I  can  tell  you,  Colt "  he  managed  to  whis- 
per through  stiff  lips.  "This  is  mighty  fine  of  you — 
mighty  fine  I" 


194  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Stuff  I"  said  Colt,  his  checkbook  in  hand.  "How 
much  shall  it  be?" 

And  Van  Steer,  vaguely  aware  of  what  had  taken 
place,  conscious  only  that  Colt's  check  for  five  thou- 
sand dollars  reposed  in  his  pocket — a  check  for  which 
he  had  given  a  worthless  scrap  of  paper — came  away 
from  the  great  house  with  the  memory  of  Colt's 
heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder — Colt's  deep  voice  call- 
ing him  friend. 


CHAPTER  XV 

COLT   SHOWS    HIS   COLORS 

"T\  APHNE,  the  Bethel  Courier  in  her  hand,  await- 
*~*  ed  her  father  on  the  steps  of  her  home.  She 
had  come  in  from  a  ride  across  country,  and  the  flush 
of  the  exercise  was  still  in  her  cheeks — the  sparkle 
in  her  eyes.  She  radiated  youth  and  health — buoy- 
antly, vividly  alive.  Van  Steer,  as  he  approached, 
thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look  so  lovely  as  she 
did  framed  in  the  doorway,  her  form  slight  and  boy- 
ish in  its  well-cut  habit. 

She  held  the  paper  toward  him.  "What  does  this 
mean,  Daddy?"  she  demanded. 

He  smiled  on  her  tenderly.  So  he  was  to  lose  her 
soon — lose  her,  but  gain  a  Colt  for  a  son-in-law.  He 
scarcely  noticed  the  paper  she  handed  him  in  his 
intense  study  of  her. 

"Little  Daphne,"  he  said  softly.  She  stared  at 
him. 

"What's  the  matter?  You  look  as  though  you'd 
seen  me  for  the  first  time.  What  I  want  to  know  is 
this:  Is  it  true  you're  serving  as  chairman  of  the 
Executive  Committee  of  the  Ball?" 

He  glanced  down  at  the  sheet  in  his  hand.  There 
195 


196  The  Road  of  Ambition 

was  his  name  in  bold  type,  heading  the  list  of  prom- 
inent men.  He  felt  a  glow  of  pride — as  Philip  Colt's 
father-in-law  he  could  hope  to  head  many  such  lists. 
He  nodded. 

"But  I  don't  understand,"  she  insisted.  "Colt's 
on  it,  too,  and  the  rest  of  the  Big  Four.  You  didn't 
know  that,  did  you,  Daddy,  when  you  accepted?" 

He  smiled  at  her — so  she  was  going  to  keep  up 
the  farce  until  the  last  minute.  He  shot  a  question  at 
her:  "Whom  were  you  riding  with  to-day?" 

"Philip  Colt.     But  why " 

"Ah!"  he  teased,  wagging  his  finger  at  her;  "so 
you  can  play  with  a  Colt,  but  not  I — is  that  it?" 

She  frowned.  "It's  different  with  you,  isn't  it? 
Colt  has  hurt  you  in  every  possible  way — as  for 
Philip — he  isn't  responsible  for  his  father,  and  he 
rides  well — and  he  has  stopped  proposing,  so  I  can't 
see  what  harm  my  going  with  him  does." 

"He's  stopped  proposing,"  chuckled  the  Judge — 
he  thought  it  an  exceedingly  clever  way  of  putting  it. 
"Well,  well,  you  may  be  wrong  about  Colt  Senior 
— a  man  in  his  position  is  often  forced  to  do  un- 
pleasant things  that  are  not  of  his  own  choosing — 
pressure  brought  to  bear  shapes  his  course  for  him 
— at  heart  he  may  be  all  right." 

"Why,  Daddy?"  she  said,  anxiously;  "you've 
never  talked  this  way  before.  What's  he  been  say- 
ing to  you?  What's  happened  to  change  you  this 
way?" 


Colt  Shows  His  Colors  197 

He  pinched  her  cheek.  "Nothing,  Daphne,  noth- 
ing. Can't  I  do  my  bit  toward  serving  Bethel  as 
well  as  you  youngsters?  Aren't  you  to  be  in  some 
tableaux  or  other?" 

"Of  course;  but  you,  Daddy;  you — why  you  said 
yourself  you  would  rather  be  hung  than  be  seen 
speaking  to  him  I" 

Van  Steer  drew  himself  up.  "Which  proves  that 
I'm  a  very  hasty,  bad-tempered  old  man,  I'm  afraid. 
Never  jump  to  conclusions,  Daphne,  it's  a  sad  busi- 
ness," and  he  left  her  staring  after  him,  her  eyes 
clouded  with  a  fear  she  could  not  put  into  words. 

Late  that  night,  Philip,  returning  from  a  stag  at 
the  club,  found  a  message  from  his  father.  It  re- 
quested him  to  stop  in  at  the  library  before  retiring. 
It  was  in  the  nature  of  a  command — and  Philip 
studied  the  slip  anxiously.  There  were  any  number 
of  reasons  why  he  did  not  particularly  desire  an  in- 
terview with  Colt  Senior  just  then.  He  went,  never- 
theless. His  father,  clad  in  a  dressing  gown  of 
flaming  Oriental  silk,  was  hunched  in  his  chair,  puf- 
fing thick  clouds  of  smoke  ceilingward.  This  was 
a  good  sign.  Colt  never  puffed  unless  he  were  deeply 
pleased  at  some  achievement  of  his  own.  Philip 
straightened  up  and  closed  the  door  softly  behind 
him.  Colt  lowered  his  gaze  and  fixed  it  on  his  son. 

"Well,  Philip,"  said  he,  with  his  nearest  approach 
to  a  smile;  "you  can  sleep  well  to-night." 


198  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Philip  waited,  shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other. 
He  knew  better  than  to  interrupt. 

"Yes,  sir,  you  can  sleep  well — no  more  trouble 
so  far  as  that  Van  Steer  girl  is  concerned — I've  fixed 
her  father." 

Philip  started.  "Fixed  her  father?  What  have 
you  done?" 

Colt  took  the  cigar  from  his  mouth  and  scowled 
at  his  son. 

"None  of  your  business!"  he  snapped;  then  his 
good  humor  returned.  "If  she  doesn't  say  yes  next 
time  you  ask  her  just  let  me  know." 

Philip  took  a  step  nearer.  "I  think  it's  only  fair 
that  I  should " 

Colt  shook  his  head.  "That's  all,"  he  replied, 
placidly;  "good  night." 

Philip  hesitated,  his  lips  parted;  then,  whirling  on 
his  heel,  was  gone. 

Colt  relaxed.  He  eased  his  shoulders  down  far- 
ther into  the  soft  leather  of  his  chair  with  a  deep 
grunt  of  satisfaction,  crossed  his  knees.  He  slipped 
the  cigar  into  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  and,  sending 
a  cloud  of  smoke  upward,  shut  his  eyes. 

As  May  dressed  for  the  Colt  Ball,  she  reflected 
that  the  past  weeks  had  been  full  of  a  thousand  de- 
lights. There  was  first  of  all  the  announcement  in 
the  Courier.  It  was  a  three-column  affair,  with  cuts 
of  herself  and  Bill  and  a  view  of  the  new  house  on 


Colt  Shows  His  Colors  199 

Bethel's  hilltop.  It  was  no  modest  account,  but 
a  spread  which  told  in  full  the  history  of  the  New- 
comb  family  and  gave  a  brief  sketch  of  Bill's  rise. 
That  was  the  beginning  of  May's  triumph. 

She  enjoyed  her  new  position  as  Bill's  fiancee  in 
countless  ways.  She  delighted  in  the  whispers  of  the 
clerks  which  her  presence  in  the  shops  occasioned. 
They  were  all  eager  to  serve  her — to  present  their 
finest  stock  to  her — their  subtle  assumption  that 
nothing  would  be  too  costly  for  her,  was  music  in  her 
ears. 

Then  one  after  another,  the  wives  of  the  Big  Four 
had  called  upon  her.  It  was  whispered  that  Bill  was 
soon  to  be  made  a  partner  of  the  great  concern — 
their  visits  confirmed  the  rumor — as  a  first  step  he 
had  been  taken  into  the  Bethel  Steel  Club — a  lunch- 
eon club  whose  membership  was  limited  to  the 
money-kings  and  their  brothers — a  club  which  was 
known  to  be  a  mighty  board  of  trade  whose  unre- 
corded transactions  ran  into  huge  figures.  Where 
deals  were  made  and  contracts  signed  as  carelessly 
as  the  lunch  check. 

May  played  her  hand  carefully.  She  knew  the 
string  by  which  she  held  Bill  was  of  the  slenderest — 
his  overwhelming  gratitude  to  her  alone  had  won 
him.  She  refused  his  most  lavish  gifts — he  was 
amazed  at  her — but  she  insisted  gently  that  he  must 
save — the  house  would  cost  so  much — the  furnish- 
ings— she  had  quite  enough  to  thank  him  for. 


20O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  was  reckless  only  in  the  ring  she  chose.  This, 
her  badge  of  conquest,  to  be  flashed  before  the  eyes 
of  Bethel — was  a  single  pigeon-blood  ruby,  simply 
set,  but  it  glowed  on  her  hand  like  a  drop  of  blood. 

As  she  stood  beneath  the  soft  glow  of  the  shaded 
candles,  she  turned  it  on  her  hand,  this  way  and  that, 
catching  the  glint  of  the  lights — the  spark  of  fire 
in  its  depths. 

"And  it's  only  the  beginning,"  she  sighed  in  an 
abandonment  of  content. 

She  permitted  her  maid  to  draw  over  her  shoul- 
ders the  gown  of  which  she  had  dreamed.  It  was 
a  reality  now  of  sheerest  white  chiffon  and  filmy  lace 
— simple,  but  breathing  richness  from  every  soft 
fold.  It  was  a  triumph  of  dressmaker's  art  and 
May,  gazing  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  knew  she  had 
never  looked  so  well  in  her  life.  She  studied  her 
face — leaning  on  her  hands — her  tiny  body  bent  to- 
ward the  reflection — then  she  smiled. 

"Mrs.  Matthews,"  she  nodded  to  herself.  "The 
Mrs.  Matthews — yes,  I  think  you'll  do " 

Even  then  Bill  was  rapping  at  her  door.  She  flung 
her  cloak  over  one  bare  shoulder  and  called  to  him 
to  enter.  She  met  his  grave  eyes  with  a  smile. 

"Dear  old  Bill — why  so  solemn?" 

He  straightened  up.  "I  was  thinking,  May,  that's 
all — I  don't  get  a  chance  to  often — but  downstairs 

waiting  for  you "  he  stopped.  She  watched 

him. 


Colt  Shows  His  Colors  201 

"Yes,"  she  prompted.    He  shrugged. 

"I  was  thinking  that  life  has  a  deuce  of  a  way 
of  teasing  a  man — hasn't  it?  Dangling  a  bunch  of 
grapes  above  him  until  he  makes  the  supreme  effort 
to  get  them — only  to  find  they  are  sour." 

She  hid  her  alarm  and  slipped  her  arm  through 
his.  "You're  working  too  hard,  Bill — that's  all  that 
ails  you — if  you  don't  stop  before  long,  you'll  be 
quoting  Dante's  Inferno  to  me !" 

His  face — somewhat  tense,  relaxed  and  she  turned 
him  around. 

"Look  at  me,"  she  commanded.  "Tell  me  I  am 
perfectly  enchanting  and  utterly  ravishing — or  I 
shall  scream!'9 

Suddenly  he  swept  her  to  him. 

"You're  a  witch,"  he  whispered  roughly,  "a  black 
and  white  witch." 

She  lay  for  a  minute  in  his  arms,  then  freed  her- 
self, panting. 

"Heavens — my  hair "  she  gasped.  But  her 

eyes  were  hard.  She  could  call  him  to  her  by  that 
age-old  appeal — she  felt  vastly  relieved. 

"Are  you  ready?"  she  asked. 

He  nodded  and  she  glanced  back  once  more  at  her 
mirror — she  smiled  boldly  at  herself  this  time — 
triumphantly. 

"Forward  march,"  she  sang  out  gaily,  then:  "Do 
try  to  be  adoring,  Bill,  dear;  all  Bethel  will  be 
watching  tonight  to  see  how  you  act." 


2O2  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  nodded:  "I  know,"  as  he  followed  her  to  the 
door. 

Colt's  mansion  was  ablaze  with  lights — from  all 
over  Bethel  its  windows  might  be  seen  gleaming 
through  the  darkness.  As  one  approached,  the 
house,  boldly  outlined  against  a  pillow  of  blackness, 
was  not  unlike  a  stage  set — startling — urbanesque — 
the  long  avenue  of  giant  poplars — the  smooth  ter- 
races rolling  up  to  the  very  steps — the  spray  of  the 
fountains,  whose  drops  caught  the  flash  of  the  lights 
like  diamonds  flung  skyward. 

Bill  drew  his  breath  sharply,  as  their  machine 
paused  behind  a  string  of  cars  ahead,  and  stopped 
for  one  quivering  moment  at  the  gateway.  He 
leaned  toward  May — she,  too,  was  stirred — her  eyes 
were  unnaturally  bright  and  her  quick  breathing 
reached  his  ears. 

"A  year  ago  I'd  have  said  any  man  was  a  fool 
who  told  me  I'd  be  Colt's  guest  tonight." 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  "and  tonight  there's  no 
man  here  of  such  importance  as  Big  Bill  Matthews." 

The  car  leaped  forward  beneath  an  archway  of 
dancing  lights  and  crept  up  the  long  hill — one  of 
the  endless  snake  line  which  paused  for  an  instant  at 
the  white  steps  to  disgorge  its  load. 

Bill  felt  his  heart  leap  faster — a  pulse  throbbed 
in  his  temples.  The  scene  was  like  some  rare  wine — 
it  fired  one's  blood — it  intoxicated — the  heavy  sweet- 
ness of  the  night  air — the  beckoning  lights — the 


Colt  Shows  His  Colors  203 

words  May  had  said  to  him  went  to  his  head  like 
strong  drink — they  seemed  burned  on  his  brain — 
he  repeated  them  softly. 

"And  tonight  there's  no  man  here  of  such  import- 
ance as  Big  Bill  Matthews." 

This,  then,  was  the  fulfillment — the  moment  for 
which  he  had  striven  so  hard — the  day  when  these 
aristocrats  would  welcome  him  among  them — would 
make  him  one  of  them.  "I  said  they  would — and 
they  have,"  he  breathed  heavily. 

Yes — he  was  one  of  them  now — his  house  and  his 
fortune  equalled  theirs — but  money  had  done  more 
than  that  for  him — much  more — it  had  given  him 
work — work — it  had  made  it  possible  for  him  to 
help  his  fellows — he  wasn't  half  through  yet! 
There  were  ten — twenty  times  more  to  do  for  the 
white-faced  hands  at  the  plant.  What  man  would 
not  give  his  right  hand  for  such  a  chance  as  was  his ! 

And  now — to  cap  it  all — he  had  a  woman — a 
woman  who  would  grace  his  house — who  would  be 
worthy  the  fortune  he  would  lavish  upon  her.  He 
glanced  at  May.  He  was  proud  of  her^martness — 
the  poise  of  her  little  head — a  Newcomb,  too — a 
Newcomb  to  marry  Bill  Matthews,  whose  mother 
had  spent  all  her  days  over  a  washtub ;  whose  father 
gasped  out  his  life  at  the  Works.  A  year  ago  he 
would  have  shouted  at  the  suggestion  that  he  could 
ever  touch  the  hem  of  such  a  woman's  skirt — and 
now  she  was  giving  herself  into  his  keeping  for  bet- 


204  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ter  or  worse — oh,  life  was  wonderful — wonderful — 
and  yet — yet  he  was  not  satisfied. 

He  moved  uncomfortably.  What  was  the  matter 
with  him  anyway — was  there  nothing  that  could  fill 
him  with  that  warm  sense  of  peace — of  rest?  He 
caught  his  lip  between  his  teeth.  "I'm  a  fool,"  he 
muttered  angrily,  "a  fool.  ..." 

The  car  brought  up  before  the  steps.  A  footman 
swung  wide  the  door.  Bill  leaped  out  and  gave  his 
hand  to  May.  She  was  nodding  brightly  to  a  group 
who  were  just  entering — her  hand  still  possessively 
on  his  arm.  He  smiled  down  at  her.  Gad !  It  was 
something  to  be  able  to  make  her  happy — she  had 
had  a  hard  time  of  it  with  Monty  and  that  husband 
of  hers — he  was  going  to  make  her  forget  it — for- 
get everything  but  the  joy  of  living — and  then  all  at 
once  it  struck  him  as  peculiarly  humorous  that  he 
should  essay  to  teach  her  that  which  he  had  so  sig- 
nally failed  to  learn  for  himself. 

"I've  got  to  work  harder,"  he  growled  fiercely,  as 
he  followed  her  into  a  hall  transformed  into  an 
Egyptian  temple.  "It's  work  that  keeps  a  man  from 
thinking.  It's  work  that  makes  him  happy — noth- 
ing else."  And  he  was  caught  upon  the  whirl  of 
voices  and  out-stretched  hands. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

DAPHNE   VAN   STEER 

TV/TEN  he  knew  and  scarcely  knew — pushed  their 
way  to  his  side  with  a  word  about  his  work — 
with  an  unmistakable  eagerness  to  claim  friendship 
— women — women  in  costumes — in  evening  gowns 
— young  girls  with  baskets  full  of  flowers^-of  fav- 
ors— stared  at  him — or  smiled  shyly — whispering 
eagerly.  "There  he  is — look  quick — the  big  one 
over  there." 

He  returned  their  smiles — he  bought  their  flow- 
ers for  his  buttonhole,  he  answered  their  questions 
briefly.  May  had  passed  her  arm  through  his,  she 
stopped  him  now  and  then  to  call  out  to  a  friend — 
to  chat  with  an  acquaintance.  But  all — all  of  them 
gazed  at  him  with  that  strange  degree  of  awe — as 
though  a  seventh  wonder  had  been  suddenly  dropped 
in  their  midst.  "And  to  think  he  was  a  laborer  at 
the  Works  a  year  ago,"  a  shrill  voice  rang  out  in  a 
sudden  lull.  "Oh,  I  don't  think  it  could  have  been 
he,"  another  voice  replied.  "He  looks  so  like  a 

gentleman "  and  at  the  embarrassed  ripple  of 

laughter  the  two  guilty  ones  turned  crimson  and 
fled. 

205 


206  The  Road  of  Ambition 

But  Bill  laughed  easily.  "It's  true,  every  bit  of 
it,"  he  said.  "Isn't  it,  May?"  She  did  not  answer. 
She  saw  Colt  coming  toward  them — Cyrus  P.  Colt 
himself.  Beside  him  was  Philip — the  son  who  was 
too  good  for  her.  She  nodded  to  Philip  slightly  and 
Colt,  senior,  bowed  to  her  and  turned  to  Bill. 

"Found  your  way  here,  did  you  ? — shouldn't  won- 
der if  anyone  got  lost  in  this  maze  of  petticoats — 
never  saw  such  persistent  girls  in  my  life — or  such 
pretty  ones,  eh,  Matthews?" 

They  flocked  about  them — the  flower  girls — wav- 
ing their  baskets — vicing  for  more  money  from  the 
two  men — hoping  for  one  of  Bill's  smiles — the 
smiles  that  made  his  face  so  remarkably  boyish — 
his  eyes  so  young. 

"Run  along,"  shouted  Colt,  waving  his  hand, 
"run  along,  every  one  of  you."  Then  he  appealed 
to  his  son,  "Take  them  away,  Philip,"  and  the  bevy 
turned  to  him  as  Colt  drew  Bill  and  May  after  him. 

"They  tell  me  we've  cleared  twenty  thousand 
already,"  he  grunted;  "most  of  it  by  subscription — 
but  Bethel's  pouring  out  money — great  night  this, 
Matthews — they  have  no  more  cause  for  complaint, 
have  they?" 

Bill  looked  at  him  quizzically — at  the  man  feared 
and  hated  by  so  many  underlings.  Colt  was  a  good 
six  inches  shorter  than  he — and  Colt  was  not  a  small 
man — but  there  was  a  slight  stoop  to  his  shoulders 
— from  counting  money — Bill  decided  with  grim 


E>aphne  Van  Steer  207 

amusement — "Can't  bend  over  a  pile  of  gold  forever 
without  getting  a  crook  in  your  back,"  he  told  him- 
self. Colt  spoke  affably. 

"After  the  tableaux  and  dancing,  I  want  you  and 
Mrs.  Larabee  to  join  us  in  the  supper  room." 

May  flushed  with  eagerness.  "How  nice,  we'd 
like  to  so  much,"  said  she;  and  with  a  bow  Colt  left 
them — stopping  now  and  then  to  shoo  away  a  group 
of  chattering  girls  who  forced  their  wares  on  him — 
to  speak  to  a  man — rarely  to  a  woman — to  give  a 
command.  Bill  watched  him,  smiling. 

"And  so  that's  the  Big  Chief  we  were  in  terror 
of,"  he  mused.  "If  the  men  could  only  realize  that 
Colt  is  a  human  being  just  as  they  are — two  ears, 
a  nose  and  mouth — and  a  body  that  burns  and 

freezes  and  bleeds  just  as  theirs  does By 

George!  if  they  could  get  that  through  their  heads, 
how  quickly  his  tyranny  would  be  at  an  end." 

May,  half  hearing — and  wholly  absorbed  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  nodded  and  led  him  on 
through  the  crowd — and  wherever  they  passed  a 
whisper  like  a  breath  followed  them — "There  he 
goes — that  one — head  and  shoulders  above  the  rest 
— yes — isn't  he  a  regular  giant? — but  so  good-look- 
ing " 

Bill  did  not  seem  to  hear.  He  had  never  before 
seen  so  wonderful  a  sight — he  had  never  before 
moved  in  such  an  atmosphere  of  extreme  wealth  and 
fashion — at  the  theatre  he  had  glimpsed  these  exotic 


208  The  Road  of  Ambition 

women  awaiting  their  carriages — May  was  one  of 
them — but  he  had  never  before  seen  them  thus  at 
home — these  gay  young  matrons — these  flower-like 
girls — these  queenly  dowagers  with  gowns  as  low 
and  figures  as  svelte  as  their  daughters — yes,  and 
granddaughters. 

May  was  chatting  to  a  girl  in  flaming  orange — 
the  girl  talked  gaily,  her  head  flung  back  and  her 
white  teeth  flashing — but  her  eyes  were  on  Bill. 

"May,"  she  said,  "I  haven't  met  your  man  yet — 
I'm  dying  to — we  all  are."  May  turned  to  Bill.  He 
thought  there  was  a  flash  of  annoyance  in  her  eyes. 

"This  is  Mr.  Rogers'  daughter,  Rosalie,"  she 
said.  "Little  Rosalie  Rogers  who  is  quite  grown 
up  now." 

"Oh,  quite,"  said  the  girl,  "and  so  thrilled  at  meet- 
ing a  real  celebrity."  She  held  out  her  hand.  Bill 
took  it  and  smiled. 

"Tell  me,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "tell  me  about  it — 
I  mean  how  you  began  to  think  of  discovering  your 
process — I'm  simply  dying  to  hear " 

May  patted  the  girl's  hand.  "We  can't  stop 
now,"  she  said  sweetly,  "you  nice,  enthusiastic  kid- 
die— I  wish  we  could." 

"I  know  you  do,"  sighed  the  orange  girl,  but  her 
smile  was  for  Bill.  "Please,"  she  said  to  him, 
"please  do  come  back — you  haven't  bought  a  thing 
from  me — have  you?  I'd  love  so  to  hear  all  about 
it." 


Daphne  Van  Steer  209 

May  drew  him  away. 

"What  a  pretty  child,"  he  remarked  to  her.  May 
shot  him  a  quick  glance. 

"Child!"  she  snapped.  "She's  been  out  three  sea- 
sons and  is  trying  her  best  to  land  a  husband." 

It  wasn't  like  May — this  retort.  Bill  studied  her 
face,  but  her  lips  were  curved  sweetly — and  her  eyes 
were  guileless. 

"Dear  old  Bill,  taken  in  by  a  bit  of  fluff — I'll  have 
to  marry  you  soon  to  rescue  you  from  Bethel's  baby 
vampires,"  she  sighed.  Then  she  gave  a  cry. 

"The  fashion  show — that's  what  I  must  see,  of 
course — come  on,"  and  she  hurried  to  a  white  door 
— guarded  over  by  two  small  flaxen-haired  pages. 

It  was  Colt's  music  room  turned  into  a  model 
theatre.  The  seats  were  already  filled.  The  stage — 
a  raised  platform — was  hung  with  a  startling  cur- 
tain— a  futuristic  effect  of  blue  and  gold  pomegran- 
ates on  a  background  of  deep  purple. 

The  buzz  of  conversation  was  high  pitched — ner- 
vous— the  women's  voices  floated  lightly  above  the 
low  rumble  of  the  men's.  At  first  glance  it  seemed 
as  though  every  seat  were  taken,  but  at  Bill's  en- 
trance a  man  leaped  to  his  feet.  It  was  Pattison. 
And  the  pretty  little  woman  at  his  side,  who  was 
desperately  fighting  approaching  old  age,  was  his 
wife.  At  his  whisper  she,  too,  rose. 

"Do  sit  here,"  she  called  to  them.  "We'll  all 
move  up."  Pattison  had  reached  Bill's  side. 


21O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"You're  coming  to  Colt's  supper  afterwards, 
aren't  you?"  he  asked  with  lowered  voice. 

Bill  nodded.  May  was  tugging  at  his  arm. 
"Some  one  has  slipped  in  two  chairs  for  us  there  in 
front,  Bill — see,  close  to  the  stage — hurry,  or  they'll 
be  gone." 

Bill  hesitated.  There  were  several  matters  he 
would  like  to  run  over  with  Pattison — now  was  a 
good  time — Pattison  urged  him  eagerly. 

"Let  Mrs.  Larabee  have  my  seat — you  and  I'll 
go  outside  and  smoke.  Blamed  nonsense  dragging 
men  here — it's  bad  enough  to  pay  for  the  clothes 
without  having  to  look  at  them!  Come  on,  Mat- 
thews." 

Mrs.  Pattison  smiled  her  mirthless  smile — she 
had  heard  somewhere  that  laughter  brought  lines — 
she  had  never  been  known  to  laugh. 

"Yes,  run  along,  Patty,"  she  urged.  "Mrs.  Lar- 
abee can  squeeze  in  here." 

But  May  shook  her  head. 

"They've  placed  those  seats  for  us — we  really 
should  take  them — besides,  Mr.  Matthews  wants  to 
stay  I  know,  don't  you,  Bill?" 

He  was  about  to  reply  negatively  when  he  felt 
the  pressure  of  her  fingers  on  his  arm — a  touch — 
no  more — but  in  an  instant  he  had  caught  her  mean- 
ing. What  a  boor  he  was — planning  to  run  off  with 
Pattison  and  talk  business — of  course,  she  wanted 
him  to  stay — wasn't  she  showing  him  off  to  Bethel — 


Daphne  Van  Steer  211 

what  had  he  been  thinking  of!  He  laughed,  as  he 
turned  to  Pattison. 

"You  couldn't  drag  me  away,"  he  said,  with  an 
affectionate  glance  at  her.  "See  you  later." 

May  flashed  a  smile  at  him  and  moved  down  the 
aisle — her  chin  well  up,  her  shoulders  back.  Bill 
smiled  to  himself — he  wouldn't  hurt  her  for  the 
world — he  wished  for  one  swift  moment  that  she 
attracted  him  irresistibly — that  he  could  not  tear 
himself  from  her  because  of  the  spell  she  cast  over 
him — then  he  shook  his  head — that  sort  of  thing 
one  read  about  in  books  did  not  happen  outside  of 
their  covers — his  relationship  with  May  was  a  much 
more  comfortable  thing — those  gusty  passions  never 
lasted — burned  themselves  out — it  was  far  better  to 
admire  a  woman  immensely  than  to  love  her — per- 
haps after  all  he  did  love  May — how  was  one  to 
tell?  His  way  of  loving  and  another  man's  was 
bound  to  differ — there  were  moments  when  she 
thrilled  him — when  the  nearness  of  her  body — her 
clinging  arms — and  red  lips  sent  his  pulses  leaping — 
of  course  he  loved  her — but  he  wished  to  goodness 
she  had  let  him  have  a  minute  or  two  with  Pattison 
before  the  supper. 

They  had  reached  the  seats  and  even  as  May 
dropped  into  one  of  them  the  lights  grew  dim  and 
the  heavy  curtains  parted.  She  laid  her  hand  over 
his — the  hand  on  which  the  ruby  gleamed  dully,  like 
a  red  eye. 


212  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"You  lamb,"  she  whispered.  "I  sha'n't  keep  you 
here  through  the  long,  stupid  thing — we'll  escape 
after  the  first  few  exhibits." 

So  she  did  understand.  He  patted  her  hand  and 
smiled — then  remembering  she  had  particularly  re- 
quested him  to  be  adoring,  he  closed  his  fingers  over 
hers,  she  moved  closer  to  him,  her  arm  touched  his. 
The  fragrance  of  her  hair  reached  him,  his  fingers 
tightened  over  hers.  Of  course  he  loved  her — dear 
little  May 

"Look,"  she  was  crying  eagerly.  "Isn't  Betty 
Welch  too  cunning  for  words?" 

Betty  Welch — the  tiny  daughter  of  one  of  Bethel's 
foremost  bankers — clad  as  a  woodland  nymph, 
darted  from  behind  a  papier  mache  rock — blew  a 
wealth  of  kisses  to  her  delighted  audience  and 
clapped  her  dimpled  hands.  Immediately  the  stage 
was  plunged  into  darkness,  then  the  lights  flashed 
up,  revealing  the  interior  of  a  smart  dressmaking 
shop.  A  little  play  began  to  unfold  itself — a  bride- 
to-be — greeted  enthusiastically  by  her  friends  in  the 
audience — entered  and  chose  her  trousseau  with 
many  a  sidelong  glance  at  the  adoring  youth  in  the 
front  row.  One  after  another  bewitching  model 
was  paraded  before  her. 

Bill  moved  uneasily — after  all  it  wasn't  the  sort  of 
thing  a  man  would  enjoy — he  smiled  to  think  of 
himself  there — Big  Bill  at  a  fashion  show.  He  won- 
dered, with  a  grin,  what  the  boys  would  say.  He 


Daphne  Van  Steer  213 

glanced  at  May.  She  was  leaning  forward  eagerly 
— her  cheeks  flushed — noting  with  that  microscopic 
skill  of  women,  the  cut  and  texture  of  each  gown  dis- 
played. 

He  felt  immensely  relieved  at  her  absorption — he 
could  slip  back  to  his  problems — to  the  delightful 
contemplation  of  how  much  might  be  accomplished 
with  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  hand.  Building 
could  be  started  at  once — twenty  thousand.  .  .  . 

They  were  clapping  wildly.  Bill,  brought  back  to 
his  surroundings  by  the  outburst  of  noise,  looked 
about  him  with  amused  interest.  It  was  one  of  the 
things  that  amazed  him  most — the  warm  enthusiasm, 
the  almost  childlike  eagerness  with  which  these  sur- 
feited darlings  of  the  gods  greeted  their  pleasures. 
Surely  they  had  seen  just  such  shows  a  hundred  times. 
It  was  rather  nice,  he  thought,  that  they  were  far 
from  being  jaded  fools  they  were  believed  to  be. 

They  were  exclaiming  extravagantly — leaning  to- 
ward one  another — eyebrows  raised,  lips  parted. 

"Isn't  she  wonderful? — isn't  she  gorgeous? — I've 
never  seen  her  look  half  so  lovely — never " 

He  found  more  amusement  in  watching  them  than 
in  the  pet  of  society  who  for  the  moment  was  manni- 
kin — suddenly  'they  burst  into  a  storm  of  applause. 

"Superb !"  bawled  a  rosy-cheeked  old  man  behind 
him.  "Good  girl,  Daphne!  You  look  like  your 
Grandpa  Van  Steer,"  and  he  clapped  noisily  and 
stamped  his  feet. 


214  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Bill's  heart  leaped  to  his  throat.  His  body  stif- 
fened as  from  an  electric  shock.  Daphne — Van 

Steer He  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  weakness 

— a  trembling — he  who  was  so  strong — he  wanted 
to  turn  his  head — with  all  his  soul  he  wanted  to  turn 
his  head — and  yet  he  could  not.  .  .  . 

May  was  tapping  his  arm  with  her  fan.  "Bill," 
she  whispered,  "for  goodness'  sake  sit  around — 
what  will  people  think  of  you?" 

He  did — glad  of  an  excuse.  Still  he  could  not 
raise  his  eyes.  But  he  had  to.  He  simply  had  to. 
If  the  pounding  of  his  heart  would  only  cease.  He 
wondered  if  May  could  hear  it.  ...  !  He  looked 
up,  and  saw  before  him  the  woman  of  his  dreams. 
He  could  not  tear  his  eyes  away — he  was  as  one 
turned  to  stone — the  world  was  rocking — he  saw  her 
through  a  haze. 

In  a  gown  of  filmy  tulle — a  transparent  cloud — 
kept  from  floating  entirely  away  by  the  black  straps 
on  her  delicately  molded  shoulders,  she  paraded 
saucily  before  the  enraptured  audience.  He 
noted  with  a  fierce  delight  that  his  mental  picture  of 
her  had  been  correct — yet  he  had  never  attributed 
that  mother-of-pearl  whiteness  to  her  skin — or  that 
eager  light  to  her  green  eyes — he  had  never  seen 
her  lips  smiling  so  warmly,  so  frankly — he  had  not 
remembered  that  her  hair  was  so  like  a  skein  of  pure 
gold. 

Over  the  footlights  the  velvet-clad  pages  were 


Daphne  Van  Steer  215 

handing  her  sheafs  of  flowers.  The  bride-to-be 
pouted  a  trifle  and  glanced  reproachfully  at  her 
stricken  suitor.  But  the  old  man  behind  Bill  ap- 
plauded vociferously.  Bill  Heard  the  quick  whisper 
that  ran  from  lip  to  lip. 

"From  Phil  Colt.     He's  simply  mad  about  her." 

A  woman  on  his  left  went  a  bit  farther.  "He's 
there  morning,  noon  and  night." 

He  wheeled  about  and  glared  at  her,  but  she  re- 
turned his  look  with  cool  amusement.  Philip  Colt ! 
he  stormed,  though  his  lips  were  mute — that  worth- 
less son  of  a  slave  driver — Philip  Colt — and  that 
Goddess 

"No!"  he  heard  himself  saying,  "no — it  can't  be 
true!" 

"What?"  asked  May,  then  promptly  forgot  her 
question  in  the  thrilling  excitement  of  seeing  a  bas- 
ket of  roses  borne  up  the  aisle  to  the  popular  Miss 
Van  Steer. 

"She'll  need  a  dozen  cars  to  get  them  home," 
laughed  the  crowd. 

But  Bill  did  not  laugh — he  was  wildly  jealous — 
consumed  with  fury  because  no  flowers  of  his  were 
among  those  which  Daphne,  helpless  and  protesting, 
endeavored  to  carry  from  the  stage — tormented  at 
the  thought  that  she  would  thank  another  for  the 
blossoms — that  idiot  of  a  Colt.  .  .  . 

He  scowled  darkly — scowled,  when  in  answer  to 
the  shouts  and  stamping  she  emerged  once  more 


216  The  Road  of  Ambition 

from  behind  the  curtains — ran  to  the  footlights  and 
nodded  brightly  at  the  sea  of  faces. 

"Speech !"  shouted  someone  eagerly,  but  she  shook 
her  head  in  sudden  panic — retreated,  and  the  curtain 
fell. 

"Well,"  gasped  the  old  man  behind  Bill,  "she's 
certainly  the  reigning  queen  of  Bethel."  Bill  wanted 
to  turn  and  grasp  his  hand,  but  a  woman's  voice  cut 
in. 

"Just  think  what  a  duck  of  a  hostess  she'll  make 
when  when  she  marries  Phil.  There'll  be  no  end  of 
parties.  What  a  mistress  for  Colthenge!" 

"Just  like  her  grandfather,"  mused  the  old  man. 
"Gad!  I  wish  I  were  young,  then  Phil  wouldn't 
have  a  ghost  of  a  chance!" 

May  was  smiling,  but  Bill  rose.  "Let's  get  out 
of  here,"  he  said  thickly.  She  opened  her  lips  to 
protest,  but  something  in  his  face  arrested  her  and 
she  followed  him  without  a  word.  Once  they  had 
reached  the  ballroom  she  questioned  him. 

"What  was  it,  Bill? — you  looked  as  though  you 
had  seen  a  ghost." 

He  stared  at  her  with  unseeing  eyes.  "Nothing," 
he  answered  brusquely.  "Nothing  at  all." 

The  music  crashed  into  a  syncopated  melody — it 
cleared  the  atmosphere — it  lifted  the  tension.  After 
all,  what  right  had  he  to  think  of  her?  He  was  in 
love  with  May — he  had  assured  himself  of  it  earlier 
in  the  evening — he  told  himself  so  now  with  a  fierce- 


Daphne  Van  Steer  217 

ness  that  would  brook  no  argument  from  that  tor- 
menting inner  voice — yes — in  love  with  May — en- 
gaged to  marry  her — to  make  her  mistress  of  his 
home — what  did  he  mean  by  getting  cold  and 
hot  and  angry  and  jealous  at  the  sight  of  Daphne 
Van  Steer — was  that  playing  the  game  squarely?  By 
Jove !  he  was  in  love  with  May — he'd  like  to  see  any- 
one deny  it — and  all  the  while  that  cruel  inner  voice 
taunted  him — jeered  at  him.  "She'll  wear  Colt's 
flowers,"  it  said.  "Her  smile  will  be  for  him." 
"Well,  it  was  for  me  once,"  sprang  to  his  lips,  but 
he  crushed  it  down  with  an  oath. 

"Let's  dance,"  said  May,  impatiently.  He  took 
her  in  his  arms.  She  smiled  up  at  him. 

"We'll  give  a  big  house  warming  as  soon  as  we 
move  in,"  she  was  saying,  "and  ask  all  these  peo- 
pie." 

Ask  the  Colts — Philip  and  his  new  wife!  Bill 
danced  well  as  a  rule,  although  he  detested  it — but 
at  the  stabbing  thought,  he  lost  step,  trampled  on 
May's  foot — stopped  short — red  with  embarrass- 
ment. May's  irritation  was  tinged  with  pain. 

"For  heaven's  sake,"  she  snapped,  "can't  you  keep 
time?" 

He  was  very  humble.  "I'm  sorry — sorry  as  the 
deuce.  I'm  a  fool,  May,  a  clumsy  fool.  Let's  watch 
the  others." 

He  drew  her  to  one  side  of  the  ballroom,  and 
dropped  down  beside  her  on  a  divan.  An  old  ad- 


218  The  Road  of  Ambition 

mirer  caught  sight  of  her,  and  came  forward  with 
an  offer  to  dance.  She  accepted  gratefully  and  left 
Bill  crushed  and  ashamed.  He  watched  her  whirl 
from  sight.  Then  he  rose.  He  would  have  time 
enough  to  return  before  the  dance  was  over — but  he 
had  to  walk — to  move  about — to  do  something.  He 
wished  he  were  at  the  Works  again — that  there  were 
rush  orders  to  fill — that  he  might  plunge  into  the 
task  with  his  whole  soul  until  he  dropped  from  sheer 
weariness — too  tired  to  think. 

"So  you've  played  hookey,  too,"  said  a  voice 
cheerily.  It  was  Pattison.  Bill  looked  up  with  re- 
lief he  did  not  know  he  could  feel.  "Mighty  slow 
show,"  grunted  Pattison,  "although  the  little  Van 
Steer  girl  did  stir  things  up  some — distinctly  in  the 
peach  class,  isn't  she?" 

Bill  resented  his  tone — his  words.  "Come  on," 
said  Pattison,  unconscious  of  his  danger,  "Let's  have 
a  drink." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MAY'S  EYES  ARE  OPENED 

TI^HEN  they  came  back  to  the  ballroom — the 
*  *  music  was  dropping  into  its  closing  bars.  Bill 
turned  to  Pattison. 

"I'll  run  over  and  find  May." 

Pattison,  intensely  genial  and  slightly  flushed, 
slapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  "My  wife's  in  the  far 
corner — bring  Mrs.  Larabee  over  there."  Bill 
bowed,  turned  away,  then  stopped  short.  .  .  .  Di- 
rectly in  his  path  was  a  crowd  of  men — a  crowd  of 
men  clamoring  for  dances — and  in  their  midst  stood 
Daphne.  She  wore  the  daring,  bizarre  costume  of 
the  Fashion  Show — and  to  her  corsage  she  had 
pinned  a  bunch  of  flaming  roses.  At  her  side  hov- 
ered Philip  Colt,  a  light  of  annoyance  in  his  eyes  at 
the  persistent  requests  of  the  others. 

The  scene  was  indelibly  printed  on  Bill's  mind — 
photographed  there  so  that  in  after  years  he  was 
always  able  to  recall  at  will  the  girl  in  her  gown  of 
green  chiffon — her  beauty  enhanced  by  her  excite- 
ment, flushed  and  radiantly  lovely — her  eyes  full  of 
eager  amusement  at  the  men's  struggles  to  outbid 
each  other — of  Philip,  like  some  dark  shadow — at 
219 


22O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

her  side,  his  face  clouded  with  a  lover's  jealousy. 

Bill  determined  to  go — to  go  at  once — even  then 
the  music  was  rising  to  its  last  grand  crescendo — it 
stopped  amidst  a  thunder  of  applause — and  rose 
once  more  in  a  reluctant  encore.  There  was  yet 
time — for  what?  .  .  .  His  mind  worked  in  flashes. 
He  swung  about.  "Pattison!"  he  called.  Pattison, 
already  several  paces  away,  turned  at  the  sound  of 
his  name  and  ambled  back  amiably.  Bill  tried  to 
speak  very  calmly,  to  keep  the  tremor  from  his  voice. 

"Miss  Van  Steer  .  .  .  "  he  said  swiftly;  "I'd  like 
to  meet  her.  ..." 

Pattison  glanced  at  him  shrewdly.  "You  hit, 
too?"  he  chuckled.  "Hang  it!  if  she  doesn't  bowl 
over  every  man  in  sight !" 

Bill  did  not  resent  this.  He  did  not  resent  any- 
thing that  would  permit  him  to  grasp  her  hand — to 
take  her  attention  from  that  crowd  of  yapping 
youths.  Pattison  was  drawing  him  forward. 

"Daphne,"  he  sang  out,  "behold  the  conquering 
hero This  is  the  famous  Mr.  Matthews." 

The  men  moved  back — with  frank  curiosity  in 
their  gaze — and  that  same  degree  of  awe — even 
Phil's  face  lost  its  petulance  in  a  flash  of  interest — 
but  Bill  did  not  see  them,  he  saw  nothing  but  the 
smile  that  touched  her  lips — and  the  warm  welcome 
in  her  eyes  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you,"  she  was  saying ;  "you've 
done  so  much  for  Bethel  ..." 


May's  Eyes  Are  Opened          221 

He  dropped  her  hand  in  an  instant,  but  he  tingled 
from  head  to  foot — he  struggled  for  a  trite  phrase — 
he  knew  they  were  waiting  for  him  to  speak — he  had 
never  felt  this  way  before — tongue-tied — awkward 
— Pattison  came  to  his  rescue  with  his  elephantine 
humor: 

"He  wants  to  ask  you  to  dance,  Daphne,  but  he 
doesn't  dare." 

Bill  turned  to  him  gratefully: 

"That's  just  about  it,"  he  nodded. 

Daphne  smiled  again.  "Of  course  I'll  dance  with 
you,"  she  said.  "I  shall  be  proud  to — the  very  next 
one,"  and  the  youth  to  whom  she  had  promised  the 
waltz  sulked  in  silence.  Bill  bowed  himself  away. 
He  was  afraid  to  stay — afraid  of  himself — Pattison 
still  lingered  about  the  bright  flame,  bantering  with 
the  ease  of  long  friendship. 

"Lucky  boy,"  he  called  out  to  Bill  as  he  retreated. 
Bill  nodded  and  tried  to  smile. 

He  could  not  return  to  May — he  didn't  dare  meet 
her  torrent  of  questions — he  was  afraid  of  what  his 
answers  might  be — he  wanted  to  think — and,  curi- 
ously enough,  thought  was  pushed  aside — crowded 
out  by  the  pounding  of  his  heart  and  the  leap- 
ing of  his  pulses  as  he  imagined  himself  guiding 
her.  Then  he  turned  on  himself  angrily — what  sort 
of  man  was  he — to  ask  one  woman  to  marry 
him  and  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  over  another — 
was  there  no  honor  in  him? — did  he  not  owe  it  to 


222  The  Road  of  Ambition 

May  to  tear  himself  away  from  this  girl  who  had 
stamped  her  image  on  his  heart?  That  was  it — 

tear  himself  away — go — before  it  was  too  late 

He  turned  on  his  heel — his  face  grim — his  lips  tight 
shut — it  was  only  fair  to  May — to  little  May.  .  .  . 

The  music  swung  into  the  plaintive  measure  of  the 
waltz — the  'cello  called  softly — the  violin  coaxed — 
the  rhythm  of  the  music  beat  like  a  quickened  pulse. 
Bill  paused.  After  all — just  this  once — perhaps 
never  again  so  long  as  he  lived  would  this  chance 
come — no — he  told  himself — it  musn't — he  would 
see  that  it  didn't — he  would  sell  the  house  on  the  hill 
— they  would  go  away  from  Bethel — far  away — 
But  just  this  once.  .  .  He  made  up  his  mind  in  a 
flash — he  thrust  the  crowd  aside.  He  found  Daphne 
waiting,  surrounded  by  her  admirers;  she  came  to 
him  at  once,  with  a  little  smile  of  welcome;  he  drew 
her  after  him,  then  she  rested  her  hand  in  his — he 
hoped  he  could  dance — he  hoped  he  could  keep  time 
— hoped  with  all  his  soul  he  would  not  make  a  fool 
of  himself  there  before  all  Bethel — but  he  was  acute- 
ly conscious  only  of  her  cool  fingers  in  his  own — 
the  nearness  of  her  head  to  his  shoulder — a  great 

light  smote  him This,  then,  was  being  in 

love.  .  .  . 

They  danced  well  together.  Bethel's  matrons 
raised  their  lorgnettes  and  eyebrows.  UA  handsome 
couple — I  wonder  how  dear  May  likes  it." 

May  didn't.     Having  captured  the  old  admirer, 


May's  Eyes  Are  Opened         223 

she  thought  to  tease  Bill  by  his  presence,  and  had 
returned  with  him  triumphantly  in  tow — only  to  find 
Bill  gone.  She  was  uneasy  a  minute — a  picture  of 
Rosalie  Rogers'  provocative  smile  rising — but  see- 
ing Rosalie  whirl  past  on  the  arm  of  an  elderly  beau 
she  settled  back  content — he  had  met  some  men,  no 
doubt — still  she  blamed  herself  a  trifle  uncomfort- 
ably for  having  left  him  alone.  Then  her  partner 
gave  a  low  whistle — 

"By  Jove,  there's  Daphne  dancing  with  your  man 
— stunning  couple,  aren't  they?" 

May's  spine  shot  to  an  intent  vertical — the  color 
leaped  to  her  cheeks — her  eyes  were  little  balls  of 
fire. 

"Where?"  she  snapped.  She  did  not  need  to  ask. 
They  swung  into  her  line  of  vision — she  noted  with 
fury  that  they  kept  step  perfectly — Bill  did  not  seem 
awkward  or  bungling — but  his  face,  above  all,  she 
observed — it  was  radiant.  At  something  Daphne 
said  he  laughed  with  boyish  eagerness.  May  bit  her 
lips  and  clenched  her  little  hands  until  the  nails  cut 
into  the  flesh — so  that  was  it.  .  .  Daphne  Van 
Steer.  .  .  She  was  not  content  with  snapping  up 
Philip,  but  she  must  needs  try  to  capture  Bill,  too. 
May's  face  was  white  with  the  raging  fury  within 
— with  the  effort  to  suppress  it — she  told  herself  that 
she'd  marry  Bill  that  very  night  if  it  became  neces- 
sary— then  the  ugly  thought  flashed  upon  her  that  he 
might  not  agree — something  in  his  face  told  her  so. 


224  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Her  partner  blundered  on  unconsciously :  "Daphne 
comes  to  his  shoulder.  Gad!  he's  a  giant,  isn't  he — 
everyone's  looking  at  them.  Wonder  if  he  knew  her 
before?" 

The  same  query  flashed  across  her  mind.  She 
remembered  suddenly  Bill's  perturbation  at  the  Show 
— after  Daphne  had  appeared — was  it  possible? 
But  she  laughed  the  thought  to  scorn — she  had  been 
with  him  every  instant — it  was  simply  the  infatu- 
ation of  the  minute.  .  .  .  Stop  it!  she  would  stop 
it  if  it  took  her  right  hand.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  WOMAN  OF  HIS  DREAMS 

A  I  ^HE  music  whispered  plaintively — Bill  answered 
•*•  Daphne's  questions  in  a  voice  a  trifle  husky — he 
marvelled  that  he  answered  them  at  all,  he  did  not 
half  hear  what  she  said — what  he  noted  in  his  intense 
absorption,  was  the  proud  tilt  of  her  chin — the  green 
light  in  her  eyes — the  smooth  beauty  of  her  brows 
— he  replied  with  an  effort  more  obvious  every  min- 
ute. She  noticed  it  anxiously.  She  wondered  if  it 
were  difficult  for  him  to  talk  while  dancing — she  re- 
solved to  settle  it. 

"We  can't  chat  very  well  this  way,  can  we?  I 
wonder  if  we  couldn't  sit  out  the  rest?" 

He  leaped  at  the  suggestion.  She  was  a  trifle  re- 
gretful. He  danced  so  well  and  she  was  pleasantly 
conscious  of  admiring  glances  cast  at  them — she  had 
never  seen  a  man  so  big — so  well  set  up.  He  fol- 
lowed her  like  one  in  a  dream — he  was  not  at  all 
sure  it  wasn't  a  dream — perhaps  he  would  wake  to 
find  himself  once  more  in  Factory  Street. 

The  decorators,  with  an  eye  to  aiding  proposals — 
of  all  kinds — had  erected  tiny  alcoves,  had  screened 
them  with  flowers  and  left  them  in  delicious  semi- 
225 


226  The  Road  of  Ambition 

darkness.  They  found  one  of  these.  Daphne  sank 
down  on  a  bench,  her  chin  in  her  hand. 

She  turned  puzzled  eyes  on  him.  "Do  you  know," 
she  said,  "I've  been  wondering  where  I've  met  you 
before." 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  continued  thought- 
fully: "I  can't  seem  to  remember — it's  stupid  of  me, 
isn't  it? — but  when  I  saw  you  to-night  I  felt  sure  it 

wasn't  the  first  time "  Then  she  straightened 

up.  "I  must  have  mistaken  you  for  someone  else — 
we  couldn't  have  met,  could  we — and  yet  ..." 

He  nodded  briefly.  "You're  right.  I've  spoken 
with  you  just  once  before." 

"I  knew  it!"  she  cried.  "I  can't  recall  when  or 
how — I  was  certain  of  it.  Where  was  it?"  she 
asked  suddenly.  "At  the  club  ?" 

He  shook  his  head,  he  did  not  trust  his  voice  in  the 
exhaltation  of  the  thought  that  she  remembered  him ! 
That  would  have  been  enough  for  him  yesterday — 
an  hour  ago — but  now — now — he  wanted  to  force 
her  to  recall  it  all  bit  by  bit.  She  caught  his  intention 
and  laughed. 

"Do  I  have  to  guess?"  He  nodded,  and  she  puck- 
ered her  forehead.  "No — not  at  the  club  or  at 
parties,  or  any  place  like  that.  Maybe  it  was  on 
some  visitors'  day  at  the  Works — you  were  super- 
intendent, weren't  you?  Or  was  it  draftsman?" 

He  grinned.  "Draftsman!  I  never  saw  the  in- 
side of  a  drafting  room  until  after  I'd  left  the  plant. 


The  Woman  of  His  Dreams      227 

As  for  being  superintendent — I'd  sooner  have  be- 
lieved I  could  be  Emperor  of  India !" 

She  was  suddenly  confused — afraid  she  had 
offended  him — had  made  an  error.  "I  thought — I 
understood  that  you  used  to  be  there — of  course,  if 
I've  made  a  horrible  mistake  and  you  were  a  director 
or  something " 

"Director!"  he  shouted,  "Director!  The  nearest 
I  came  to  being  a  director  was  when  I  was  made 
foreman  of  the  cogging." 

"You  ...  a  foreman  ..." 

He  nodded  eagerly.  "Yes,  foreman  of  the  best 
gang  in  the  Works,  and  before  that  a  day  laborer 
— for  fifteen  years — and  before  that  a  little  tyke 
who  used  to  help  my  father  stoke  furnaces." 

"Help  your  father  stoke  furnaces?  ..."  She 
stared  at  him  blankly — stared  at  his  hands — his  well- 
kept  nails — at  his  clothes — his  face.  He  did  not  see 
her.  His  eyes  were  full  of  the  past — his  heart  sing- 
ing a  song  of  joy.  .  .  .  He  had  never  dreamed  this 
day — this  hour — would  come  when  he  could  tell  her 
of  his  life.  He  heard  her  voice — cool,  direct,  per- 
sistent : 

"But  you  say  you  met  me — spoke  with  me — I 
don't  see  how " 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  his  watch.  From  its 
chain  swung  a  piece  of  money.  "See  this?"  he 
asked. 

She  nodded. 


228  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Do  you  remember  it?" 

She  shook  her  head,  her  eyes  on  his  face. 

He  leaned  forward  eagerly,  his  voice  vibrating  in 
the  deep  organ  notes  of  a  great  moment: 

"Do  you  remember  a  Sunday — a  Sunday  morning 
— you  were  in  a  motor — a  long,  gray  car  caught  in 
a  rut — your  chauffeur  couldn't  move  it " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  face  a  trifle  pale — her 
hands  twisting  her  handkerchief  nervously.  "Yes — 
yes — now  I  know !  Now  I  remember !  It  was  you  I" 
Then  she  shrank  from  him  suddenly.  "But  it 
couldn't  have  been — it  simply  couldn't  have  been!" 

He  was  speaking  eagerly:  "It  was  queer  meeting 
you  that  day — I  had  just  heard  I  might  be  rich — I'd 
never  crossed  the  tracks  before — and  when  I  saw 
Bethel  proper — saw  the  houses  on  its  hillside,  I 
made  up  my  mind  I'd  own  one — I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I'd  make  myself  fit  to  live  in  it — to  have  those 
people  for  my  friends — and  then  I  found  you — I 
knew  who  you  were — I  had  heard  your  name  a  hun- 
dred times  as  the  granddaughter  of  the  Van  Steer 
who  started  the  Works — you  were  as  high  above  me 
as  the  stars  in  the  sky — just  about  as  remote — I  had 
never  seen  anyone  half  so  beautiful — I  had  never 
seen  anyone  half  so  proud — and  I  knew — I  knew 

from  that  moment "  He  stopped  short.  What 

was  he  saying?  What  in  God's  name  trembled  on 
the  tip  of  his  tongue!  He  was  engaged  to  May 
— May  Larabee.  .  .  . 


The  Woman  of  His  Dreams       229 

She  was  staring  at  him.  "There  was  another  man 
with  you — and  a  girl — a  girl  in  a  dreadful  red  dress" 
— he  winced  at  that,  but  she  continued  breathlessly, 
as  though  something  impelled  her  to  speak  against 
her  will:  "You  pushed  Johnson  aside  and  lifted 
the  car  yourself — it  didn't  seem  at  all  hard  for  you 
to  do."  Suddenly  she  shuddered.  "But  you're  not 
the  same — you  can't  be — the  man  who  did  that  was 
a  giant — a  great,  uncouth,  insolent  giant — and  you — 
you " 

He  studied  her  curiously.  "Did  you  think  I  was 
always  this  way?" 

She  avoided  his  eye.  "I  didn't  know — I  had  heard 
so  little  about  you — just  a  word  here  and  there — 
naturally,  I  supposed  as  long  as  you  were  here — as 
long  as  you  were  engaged  to  May  Larabee,  that  you 
were — that  you  had  always  belonged  to  her  set." 

He  laughed  a  bit  at  this.  "Her  set!  I?  Up  to 
a  year  and  a  half  ago  I  was  a  factory  hand  working 
from  seven  in  the  morning  until  seven  at  night — 
with  no  prospect  of  a  raise  beyond  foremanship.  I 
couldn't  speak  English  correctly — nor  read  much — 
nor  write  decently.  The  fact  that  I'm  square  I  owe 
to  my  mother,  who  spent  all  the  days  of  her  life 
over  a  washtub — and  to  my  father,  who  died  at  the 
side  of  the  furnace  he  tended  a  life-time.  What  I've 
learned  since  the  money  came  is  due  to  May  Lara- 
bee;  before  she  took  me  in  hand  I  was  the  man  you 
met  on  the  road — I'm  the  same  man  still,  but  I  know 


230  The  Road  of  Ambition 

enough  to  say  aren't  instead  of  ain't — and  that's 
about  the  only  difference — it  doesn't  seem  to  get 
you  anywheres,  though — this  culture — the  only  rea- 
son I'm  glad  I've  acquired  this  much  is  that  I  seem 
to  be  able  to  help  the  boys  a  bit  more — aside  from 
that  I  reckon  I'd  be  happier  if  I'd  stayed  the  man 
I  was  when  I  met  you.  I  shouldn't  wonder." 

She  stared  at  him,  her  breath  coming  quickly.  She 
did  not  know  what  to  say.  She  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  Here  was  a  man  whom  she  had  paid  for  a 
service  rendered — who  had  accepted  her  money — 
a  man  she  had  regarded  as  an  inferior  a  few  months 
ago.  Did  he  expect  her  to  greet  him  as  an  equal 
simply  because  by  a  lucky  twist  of  fortune  he  was  now 
rich?  She  had  to  say  something.  He  was  waiting, 
his  face  tense,  his  jaw  set. 

"I'm  sure  it's  very  interesting,"  she  ventured. 
Then  stopped.  He  was  smiling — but  she  saw  that 
his  eyes  were  hurt — she  had  seen  just  that  look  in 
the  eyes  of  wounded  animals.  She  did  not  wan*  to 
make  him  suffer — she  wondered  resentfully  that  she 
should  have  the  power  of  doing  so.  She  wanted  to 
run  away — to  escape  the  awfulness  of  the  situation 
— but  she  could  not.  He  was  waiting,  .  .  .  She 
moved  toward  him — and  at  that  moment  both  Philip 
and  May  Larabee  entered  and  took  possession  of 
the  scene. 

Philip  nodded  to  Bill  and  strode  to  Daphne's  side. 

"This  is  our  dance,"  he  growled.    She  gasped  with 


The  Woman  of  His  Dreams      231 

relief  and  took  his  arm.  She  glanced  at  Bill.  He 
had  not  moved.  He  did  not  seem  to  see  May — or 
Philip — or  even  herself.  He  still  stared  through 
rather  than  at  her  with  that  curious  half-smile  hov- 
ering about  his  lips  and  the  pain  in  his  eyes.  May 
greeted  Daphne  warmly,  then  she  laid  her  hand  on 
Bill's  arm.  Seeing  her,  he  recovered  himself 
abruptly. 

"I'm  going  home,"  she  announced;  "I  have  such 
a  headache."  Bill  followed  her  silently  and  Daphne 
looked  after  him  with  distress. 

"I've  been  a  beast!"  she  cried;  "but  what  on  earth 
could  I  do?" 

May  did  not  address  Bill  directly  until  after  they 
had  left  the  Colt  house.  She  made  her  excuses  to 
Colt,  senior,  she  spoke  of  her  concern  at  having  to 
go — at  having  to  drag  dear  Bill  away.  Pattison 
tried  to  persuade  her  to  remain — to  corner  Bill  and 
ask  him  why  the  dickens  he  didn't  take  her  home  and 
come  back.  But  Bill  was  strangely  unresponsive. 
Pattison  concluded  with  a  shrug  that  they  had  had  a 
row — after  all,  what  could  one  expect  of  May  Lar- 
abee? — by  Jove,  perhaps  she  had  seen  Bill  and 
Daphne  together — the  idea  was  too  delicious  to  keep 
to  himself — he  spread  it  broadcast.  "Gad !  but  she'll 
never  let  him  hear  the  end  of  it — Newcomb  temper, 
you  know — poor  Bill !" 

May  settled  herself  in  the  machine,  tucked  the 


232  The  Road  of  Ambition 

robe  under  her  knees,  and  waited.  Of  course  he 
would  say  something,  now  that  they  were  alone — 
would  attempt  an  apology  which  she  would  accept 
— after  a  time — but  he  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  In- 
stead, he  sat  erect — his  lips  tightly  shut — his  face 
rather  grim,  she  thought. 

She  waited  a  reasonable  length  of  time — she 
tapped  her  foot  impatiently — then  she  decided  on  the 
best  method  of  attack,  and  said  softly: 

"Why,  Bill,  I  didn't  know  you  knew  Daphne  Van 
Steer — why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

He  smiled  at  her — but  even  in  the  darkness — she 
could  see  that  his  eyes  did  not  smile — she  had  seen 
them  look  just  that  way  when  he  was  making  up  his 
mind  to  do  something — something  tremendous. 

"It  happened  a  long  time  ago — when  I  was  at  the 
Works — I  was  able  to  do  a  slight  service  for  her — 
for  which  she  tipped  me  liberally — that  was  all." 

But  May  was  intensely  alarmed — alarmed  and 
angry  and  determined.  So  that  was  it.  He  had  not 
forgotten  Daphne — perhaps  he  had  thought  of  her 
often — planned  to  see  her — and  now — now  it  had 
happened — she  resolved  to  be  careful — oh,  so  care- 
ful— but  her  voice  was  sharp. 

"That's  positively  romantic,  Bill — it's  rather  too 
bad  that  she's  engaged  to  Colt,  isn't  it — and  that 
you're  engaged  to  me?" 

"Don't,  May,  not  now,"  he  whispered  through 
white  lips. 


The  Woman  of  His  Dreams      233 

She  was  glad  that  matters  had  taken  this  turn — 
he  was  hard^hit,  of  course — but  he  had  evidently 
decided  to  go  through  with  things  as  planned — she 
had  said  enough — she  did  not  dare  anger  him — not 
yet !  She  moved  closer,  dropped  her  hand  lightly  on 
his,  her  voice  was  thrillingly  soft,  her  eyes  like  bright, 
hard  little  diamonds. 

"Do  you  know,  Bill,  when  I  saw  you  together — 
I  was  afraid  for  a  moment — she  is  younger  than  I, 

and  so  beautiful "  She  paused.  He  did  not 

speak,  and  she 'hurried  on:  "I  was  afraid.  .  .  It 
was  silly  of  me,  of  course,  wasn't  it?  But  she  has 
so  much  to  make  her  happy — so  much  admiration — 
so  many  friends — and  now  Colt,  with  all  his  millions, 
at  her  feet — and  I — I  have  only  you." 

She  felt  him  stiffen  beneath  her  light  fingers — felt 
him  brace  himself  to  rise  to  her  appeal.  He  mois- 
tened his  lips: 

UI  won't  fail  you,  May,"  he  said  slowly;  "I  won't 
fail  you.  ..." 

She  settled  back  with  a  little  sigh — she  had  really 
managed  that  rather  well.  She  snuggled  down  com- 
fortably and  yawned.  It  was  too  bad  to  have  had  to 
miss  the  Colt  supper  I 


CHAPTER  XIX 

DISILLUSION 

and  his  court  left  the  dancing  mob  below 
and  adjourned  to  the  Jacobean  suite — the  su- 
perb chain  of  rooms  of  which  the  "State  Dining 
Room"  was  the  crown  jewel.  It  was  a  hallowed 
spot,  set  apart  for  the  exclusive  use  of  the  Big  Four. 
Around  its  board  were  held  banquets  to  visiting  po- 
tentates— across  its  table  their  wives  entertained  the 
wives  of  neighboring  money  kings — in  the  shelter 
of  its  four  walls  their  daughters  had  announced  their 
engagements  and  made  their  bow  to  society.  It  was 
an  unwritten  law  that  it  was  never  to  be  used  except 
for  an  occasion  of  importance.  And  the  guests  who 
crowded  into  it  eagerly  were  all  agog  with  curiosity 
— certain  that  Colt  was  about  to  inform  them  that 
Daphne,  after  much  dangling,  had  at  last  taken  his 
son — the  catch  of  Bethel. 

They  were  all  there.  Decker,  pinched  and  ner- 
vous— his  wife  who  had  grown  plump  on  the  Bethel 
Steel  dividends — and  their  cub  of  a  son,  Archie, 
who  was  fast  acquiring  an  avoirdupois  equalling  that 
of  his  mother.  Pattison  had  left  his  wife's  side  to 
hover  with  a  group  of  men  about  Rosalie  Rogers. 
234 


Disillusion  235 

She  was  enjoying  her  little  triumph — stood  close  to 
her  father,  whom  she  affectionately  dubbed  "Nat," 
and  who  looked  ridiculously  like  an  elder  brother. 

"Aren't  we  ever  going  to  eat?"  she  complained, 
with  a  glance  at  the  tempting  table. 

"We're  waiting  for  the  blushing  couple,"  averred 
Pattison.  "Wonder  what's  keeping  them." 

Colt  wondered,  too — with  a  heavy  scowl  he  shot 
commands  at  his  servants — and  pulled  out  his 
watch. 

"Seen  Phil?"  he  snapped  at  Decker,  who  was  la- 
boriously measuring  out  the  drops  of  his  digestive 
medicine.  Decker,  startled,  dropped  the  bottle  and 
an  angry  red  stain  crept  over  the  cloth.  "Ells- 
worth!" gasped  his  wife.  The  servants  sprang  for- 
ward and  Decker,  mopping  his  face,  shook  his  head. 
"No,"  he  mumbled.  "Haven't  .  .  .'"  Then  the 
confusion  gave  way  to  poignant  regret.  "That's  the 
last  drop  of  pepsin  I  have,"  he  mourned. 

The  suppers  were  always  served  on  the  instant 
set.  They  were  stupendously  dull  affairs  which  the 
younger  set  dreaded  and  escaped  from  as  soon  as 
possible.  Colt  presided  over  them,  invariably  turn- 
ing the  conversation  into  the  channels  of  his  own 
choosing — heavy  discussions  of  stock  transactions 
made  endurable  only  by  a  spicy  undercurrent  of  gos- 
sip— far  more  thrilling  than  usual  because  of  the 
great  caution  required  to  keep  voices  lowered  and 
faces  grave.  Invitations  to  the  suppers  were  pearls 


236  The  Road  of  Ambition 

of  great  price — coveted  by  the  Great  Uninvited  of 
Bethel  who  yearned  for  a  chance  to  sit  about  the 
Round  Table  and  wondered  enviously  what  baccha- 
nalian sports  were  indulged  in  behind  the  great 
carved  doors  by  the  Inner  Circle. 

Colt  never  drank  after  twelve,  but  Rosalie  ecstatic- 
ally spied  bottles  of  iced  wine. 

"Nothing  short  of  a  wedding  could  make  corks 
pop  here!"  she  cried.  "Why  under  the  sun  can't 
we  start?" 

Colt  paced  angrily — then  he  wheeled  on  his 
guests. 

"Sit  down,"  he  commanded.  "I'll  find  out  what's 
keeping  Phil." 

"I  know,"  said  Rosalie,  pertly,  a  cigarette  between 
her  red  lips.  "I  saw  him  a-courting  Daphne  in  one 
of  those  nice  little  cubby  holes  downstairs,  and 
judging  from  the  sounds  I  heard,  it  was  a  rather 
stormy  proceeding." 

Colt  frowned  and  Rogers  nudged  his  daughter  to 
silence,  but  she  only  laughed.  "Phil  was  red  and 
wrathy  and  Daphne  cool  and  haughty.  What  the 
dickens  could  they  have  been  scrapping  about?" 

Pattison,  seated  opposite,  roared  at  her  insolence. 
She  was  the  only  person  who  did  not  in  the  least 
fear  Colt's  anger.  She  smiled  at  Pattison  brightly 
and  rattled  on.  "I  do  hope  they've  made  it  up  and 
will  be  here  soon — I'm  starving,  aren't  you,  Patty? 
—and  Nat's  mouth  is  watering  for  the  wine."  Her 


Disillusion  237 

father  glared  at  her — the  rest  of  the  table  listened, 
entranced,  to  her  chatter.  "Really,  if  Daphne  knew 
that  I  was  pining  to  ask  her  how  she  got  that  nice 
Matthews  man  away  from  May  Larabee  long 
enough  to  dance  with,  I  know  she'd  hurry.  I  heard 
her  call  Phil  a  brute — isn't  that  too  silly,  think  of 
poor,  dear  Phil  being  a  brute  to  anyone,  least  of 
all " 

"Rosalie  I"  shouted  her  father.  She  turned  inno- 
cent eyes  upon  him,  and  upon  Colt's  purpling  face. 
"Oh,  dear,"  she  pouted,  "I  can't  see  what  you're  all 
so  solemn  about.  Thank  goodness,  Patty's  here. 
He  always  laughs  at  my  jokes." 

Pattison  did,  then  he  pointed  to  the  door.  "There 
they  are — no — by  Jove !  It's  Phil  all  alone !" 

Rosalie  turned  swiftly  to  regard  Colt's  son.  She 
noticed  in  a  flash  his  dark  scowl — his  flushed  face. 

"Well,  what  under  the  sun  have  you  done  with 
Daphne?"  she  shot  at  him  before  her  father  could 
stop  her. 

"She's  gone  home,"  muttered  Phil,  without  rais- 
ing his  eyes. 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  then  Colt,  senior, 
rapped  out  sharply: 

"Gone  home !    You  mean " 

Phil  nodded.  "I'm  off  to  bed,"  he  said  shortly 
and  turned  on  his  heel.  No  one  spoke.  Rosalie  and 
Pattison  exchanged  glances  which  Pattison's  wife, 
seated  far  down  the  table,  caught  with  cynical  amuse- 


238  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ment.     Colt  rose  heavily.     "I'll  be  back  directly." 

He  went  to  his  telephone  cabinet.  His  hand 
trembled  a  trifle.  His  voice  was  hoarse.  He  asked 
for  a  number,  then  cleared  his  throat. 

"That  you,  Van  Steer?"  he  demanded.  "Great 
speech  of  yours.  Wanted  to  tell  you  so  myself.  I 
knew  you  were  the  man  to  do  it."  Then  he  pro- 
ceeded with  a  degree  of  caution : 

"Daphne  home  yet?"  She  wasn't  and  Colt 
breathed  more  easily.  "She'll  have  some  news  for 
you  tonight,  Judge — some  big  news — we  tried  to 
keep  her  here  but  she  wouldn't  stay — said  she 
wanted  to  race  home  and  tell  you.  Yes,  it's  all  right 
between  her  and  Phil — you  can  tell  her  you  knew  it 
all  the  while — yes — yes — I'm  immensely  pleased. 
And,  oh,  about  that  money — forget  it.  She'll  need 
every  penny  of  it — dressmakers — tailors — milliners 
— hairdressers — and  what  not!  You  can  tear  up 
the  note  yourself  if  you  like  next  time  you  come  here 
— oh,  it's  nothing — absolutely  nothing — of  course, 
if  she  had  turned  Phil  down — I  should  have  been 
ugly.  The  Colts  are  used  to  having  their  way — but 
it's  come  out  splendidly — splendidly.  Oh,  she's 
there,  is  she?  Well,  tell  her  I  send  her  my  love." 

He  hung  up  slowly.  His  face  was  flushed.  He 
did  not  return  at  once  to  his  guests — he  sat  with  his 
hand  clinched — rather  as  though  he  were  crushing 
something  in  his  powerful  grip.  Then  he  flung  back 
his  shoulders  and  sauntered  in  to  them. 


Disillusion  239 

Van  Steer  looked  up  from  the  telephone  to  see 
his  daughter  swiftly  crossing  the  room  to  his  side. 
Her  face  looked  strangely  white — and  tense. 

"Daddy!"  she  cried,  when  she  saw  him,  "I'm  so 
glad  you're  home." 

Van  Steer  rose  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  said  tenderly.  He 
could  not  conceal  the  proud  ring  to  his  voice.  "Not 
that  I  haven't  known  it  all  the  time." 

She  started  back  from  him.  "Known  what? — 
how  could  you  know,  when  it  only  happened — to- 
night." 

He  laughed  at  her,  but  he  wondered  a  little  that 
she  seemed  so  deeply  moved.  He  took  her  face  be- 
tween his  hands  and  smiled  down  at  her. 

"And  so  it  happened  tonight!  Come!  Come! 
It's  time  you  stopped  playing  with  me  and  told  me 
the  truth.  I've  guessed  it,  though — and  Colt  himself 
just  called  up  to  say  it  was  all  settled !" 

"Colt  just  called  up — all  settled — what  are  you 
talking  about?" 

He  humored  her.  "You  tell  me  in  your  own  way, 
from  the  beginning." 

She  spoke  rapidly,  breathlessly.  "Tonight  when 
Philip  and  I  were  alone — he  began  again — I  sup- 
pose he  thought  he  had  a  right  to — he  had  sent  me 
a  great  many  flowers — and  then  I  think  he  had 
been  drinking — a  little.  You  know  he  had  promised 
he  would  not  ask  me  again — I  told  you  that — but  he 


240  The  Road  of  Ambition 

did — I  tried  to  stop  him — to  get  away — but  he 
wouldn't  let  me — he  caught  me  in  his  arms — he — 
oh — I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it."  She  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands  and  began  to  sob  softly.  Van 
Steer  did  not  move — he  continued  staring  at  her 
stiffly,  awkwardly  as  though  he  had  not  heard — she 
raised  her  head  at  length  and  met  his  gaze. 

"As  soon  as  I  knew — realized  that  he  was  a 
beast — I — fought  with  him — I  freed  myself  some- 
how— and  then  I  ran — of  course,  he  couldn't  follow 
me  there  in  front  of  all  those  people — so  he  let  me 
go.  Someone  called  my  carriage  for  me  and  here 
I  am."  Then  as  if  aware  for  the  first  time  of  the 
heavy  silence,  she  glanced  at  her  father.  "What  is 
the  matter?"  she  asked  quickly.  "What's  hap- 
pened?" 

He  shook  his  head  in  a  dazed  fashion.  "I  don't 
understand.  Colt  telephoned.  He  said  you  and 
his  son  were  to  be  married — that  you  had  come  home 
to  tell  me." 

"That  I  had  come  home  to  tell  you  that!  .  .  . 
Oh,  you  couldn't  have  heard  right — you  couldn't 
have — what  did  you  say  to  him?" 

Van  Steer  did  not  answer  her,  instead  he  shot 
another  question  at  her.  "But  you  have  been  en- 
gaged to  Philip?" 

"I — to  Philip  !  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd  never  marry 
him,  never  so  long  as  I  lived!" 

"But  he — I "     Then  he  groped  his  way  to 


Disillusion  241 

his  chair.  "I  don't  understand,"  he  whispered,  sink- 
ing down.  She  stared  at  him. 

"What  was  it  Colt  said?  You  haven't  told  me 
all.  I  was  afraid  of  him — afraid  of  your  going 
there — it  happened  then,  didn't  it?  The  day  he  sent 
for  you?" 

Van  Steer  rubbed  his  hand  across  his  eyes  and 
spoke  dully.  "Colt  said  it  was  a  secret — that  you 
yourself  would  tell  me  later.  I  was  not  to  mention 
it — and  so  I  haven't.  And  just  before  you  came  in — 
he  telephoned  me  that  it  was  all  settled — and  now 
you  say  it  isn't  true — none  of  it " 

Suddenly  he  pushed  her  away. 

"My  God!"  he  cried.  "What  am  I  to  do  I  What 
am  I  to  do  !" 

She  stared  at  him.  "What  difference  does  it  make 
what  he  said — what  can  he  hope  to  have  gained  by 
telling  you — it  isn't  as  though  he  had  lent  you  money 

or "  Something  in  her  father's  face  stopped  her 

short.  She  drew  her  breath  in  sharply.  "So  that's 
it — and  from  Colt.  ..." 

Her  father  bowed  his  head.  "He  said  it  would 
buy  your  trousseau — I  had  so  little — he  made  every- 
thing easy " 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently — her  face  white 
as  marble. 

"Yes — yes — he  would  of  course — it's  a  trap — a 
trap  to  force  me  to  marry  Philip.  How  much  did 
he  lend  you?" 


242  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Van  Steer's  lips  moved.  "Five  thousand,"  he 
whispered. 

"You  still  have  most  of  it,  haven't  you?" 

He  shook  his  head.  "There  were  so  many  debts 
— it  seemed  like  a  godsend — Colt  said  there  would 
be  more  whenever  I  wanted  it — I  couldn't  know  that 
he — that  you " 

"Oh,  but  you  should  have  told  me  this  I"  she  cried. 
"You  should  have  told  me  this!"  She  paced  the 
room  restlessly,  swiftly,  then  she  stopped  before  her 
father.  He  was  hunched  in  his  chair,  his  head  bent, 
his  fingers  plucking  at  his  lips.  He  looked  like  a 
very  old  man. 

Her  eyes  filled  with  quick  tears  and  she  flung  her 
arms  about  his  shoulders. 

"Don't  worry !"  she  said  gently.  "I'll  get  it  some- 
how— find  something  left  to  sell — or — or  marry 
someone  who  will  pull  us  out  of  this  hole — I'd  rather 
take  a  day  laborer  than  Colt's  son." 

She  stopped  short — and  laughed  a  little  as  though 
the  idea  struck  her  as  rather  humorous.  "No,"  she 
amended  half  to  herself,  "I  don't  believe  I'd  do  that 
either,"  and  she  laid  her  cheek  against  her  father's 
head.  "There  must  be  some  other  way." 

May  did  not  again  broach  the  subject  of  Daphne. 
When  they  reached  home  she  said  a  few  words  about 
the  abominable  pain  in  her  head,  which  she  remem- 
bered she  was  supposed  to  have — told  Bill  not  to  sit 


Disillusion  243 

up  late  as  he  was  tired  out,  then  ran  lightly  up  the 
stairs,  leaving  him  to  himself  for  what  she  knew 
would  be  a  fight  to  the  finish. 

He  started  after  her  almost  as  though  he  in- 
tended calling  her  back.  He  did  not  want  to  remain 
below  alone.  He  thought,  a  trifle  resentfully,  that 
she  might  have  sensed  his  unhappiness  and  stayed 
to  cheer  him  up — to  help  him  through  the  dark  hours 
before  him.  And  yet  that  was  unreasonable.  Why 
should  he  suppose  she  could  know  what  he  was  pass- 
ing through — she  must  not  guess  it — never — she 
must  be  forever  shielded  from  the  knowledge  that 
he  had  discovered  too  late  he  loved  another.  If  he 
were  only  free !  free  to  bring  Daphne  to  her  knees  1 

He  flung  himself  up  and  down  the  room  with 
great  strides,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him.  So  he 
wasn't  good  enough  for  her — once  she  learned  his 
origin ! — somehow  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that 
she  might  take  the  news  that  way.  No  one  else  had. 
All  the  men  and  most  of  the  women  of  Bethel  knew 
his  history.  They  had  accepted  him,  but  she  shrank 
from  him  because  he  had  stoked  furnaces — he'd  like 
to  make  her  sorry  for  that — there  was  but  one  way 
to  do  it — one  glorious  way — to  make  her  love 
him,  as  he  loved  her — to  make  those  proud  lips  be- 
come tender,  pleading — to  press  his  own  against 
them  when  they  surrendered — that  would  be  a 
triumph! — that  would  be  snatching  a  star  from 
heaven  and  bringing  it  to  earth ! 


244  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  paused  before  the  window,  breathing  fast,  his 
hands  clinched.  If  he  were  only  free  ...  1 

He  flung  open  the  window,  as  though  the  very  air 
stifled  him,  he  leaned  far  over  and  drank  in  the 
sweet,  cool  of  the  night.  It  brought  him  back  to 
his  senses  with  a  shock  that  set  him  to  trembling — 
it  soothed  his  overstrung  nerves  like  a  balm. 

He  sank  down  in  a  chair  and  gripped  its  arms 
fiercely — he'd  have  it  out  with  himself  then  and 
there — and  settle  it — he  ground  out  angrily,  between 
his  teeth — settle  it,  so  that  he  would  never  again  be 
tortured  by  visions  of  what  might  have  been  his  had 
he  won  the  woman  of  his  dreams. 

He  forced  his  mind  to  think,  when  his  senses  cried 
aloud  to  him — he  went  over  each  minute  of  his  inter- 
view with  Daphne — reviewed  it  coldly — save  that 
his  hands  shook  and  his  heart  beat  like  a  drum  in  his 
ears.  In  the  first  place  the  Colt  man  was  to  marry 
her — every  one  said  it — Colt  had  family — position, 
and  she  as  the  last  Van  Steer  had  chosen  this  man 
for  her  mate.  How  yielding  her  body  had  felt  in  his 
arm!  .  .  .  How  cruelly  tempting  her  soft  white 
throat  and  the  splendid  sweep  of  her  shoul- 
ders !  .  .  .  He  called  himself  up  with  a  jerk. 

Secondly,  he  resumed,  with  grim  intensity,  she  had 
shown  her  aversion  to  him  the  instant  he  had  told  the 
truth  about  himself — it  was  her  blood  speaking — 
what  in  heaven's  name  had  he  expected  her  to  do? — 
wasn't  it  enough  that  he  had  danced  with  her  once — 


Disillusion  245 

hadn't  he  sworn  that  would  satisfy  him?  Why  did 
the  mere  thought  of  her  send  the  color  flaming  into 
his  face? 

Thirdly — thirdly,  there  was  May.  May,  to  whom 
he  owed  everything — who  had  suffered  humiliation 
for  months  because  he  had  not  known  enough  to  ask 
her  to  marry  him — who  had  been  forced  to  broach 
the  subject  herself.  He  had  told  her  he  would  make 
her  happy — he  had  even  planned  an  alluring  future 
for  them  both — a  future  full  of  work  and  accom- 
plishment and  friendship — if  only  he  had  not  seen 
Daphne — or  seeing  her  had  known  enough  to  avoid 
her.  Still,  he  argued  with  himself,  how  could  he 
have  guessed  that  the  mere  touch  of  her  fingers 
would  kindle  his  soul  to  sudden  flame — that  was  it 
— a  burning  desire  to  go  to  her — to  be  with  her — 
to  make  her  care  for  him  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  not  of  her  world — if  he  was  only  free !  .  .  . 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  with  horror — would  his 
mind  ever  travel  in  any  save  that  eternal  circle — a 
circle  that  spelled  unhappiness  for  himself — for 
May — he  wished  May  were  there  beside  him.  He 
felt  sure  that  the  pressure  of  her  little  hands  might 
awaken  in  him  the  honor  which  seemed  suddenly 
swept  away — he  wanted  her — he  would  tell  her  what 
he  was  passing  through — no,  that  would  never 
do — he  would  make  her  talk  of  casual  things — of 
their  plans — of  their  hopes — just  the  sound  of  her 
voice  would  bring  him  back  to  himself. 


246  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  hurried  up  the  stairs.  He  remembered,  with 
a  sharp  stab,  how  he  had  raced  to  her  door  to  tell 
her  he  was  to  make  her  happy  as  long  as  she  lived — 
he  wondered  if  men — other  men  he  met  and  talked 
with  passed  through  such  crises  as  these — he  won- 
dered if  Pattison,  for  instance — or  Decker He 

had  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  paused  a  min- 
ute collecting  himself,  steadying  his  nerves. 

Then  he  found  himself  listening  to  a  voice.  It 
was  May's  and  yet  he  was  not  sure — it  was  so  stri- 
dent— so  full  of  venom.  He  listened — rooted  to 
the  spot,  unable  to  move,  his  fingers  on  the  handle 
of  the  door. 

"I  tell  you  he's  wild  about  the  woman — didn't 
I  see  his  face  when  he  danced  with  her — do  you 
think  I'm  a  fool!" 

Monty's  voice  interrupted  with  a  tormenting 
drawl,  "Well,  what  of  it?  You  can't  prevent  him 
falling  in  love  with  another  woman,  can  you  ? — take 
my  advice  and  tie  him  up  hand  and  foot  before  he 
gets  wise  to  you " 

She  answered  him  shrilly,  "Shut  up,  Monty.  I've 
handled  this  business  pretty  well,  haven't  I?  I'm 
not  going  to  let  him  get  away  from  me  now,  am  I  ? 
Do  you  think  I  put  up  with  a  factory  hand  for  noth- 
ing? I  told  you  before  he  came  that  I  was  going  to 
marry  him  and  I  will!  Once  we're  back  from  the 
altar  he'll  find  he's  lucky  to  have  any  of  his  own 
money  to  spend." 


Disillusion  247 

Bill  staggered  back.  His  face  was  white.  He 
groped  his  way  down  the  stairs.  He  stumbled  back 
to  his  room  he  had  just  left  and  dropped  into  the 
chair  beside  the  window.  He  was  still  there  when 
day  broke. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   AFTERMATH 

1\/TAY  rose  early  to  join  Bill  at  breakfast.    It  was 

A  her  theory  that  there  was  nothing  like  giving 
a  man  a  taste  of  what  he  might  reasonably  expect 
afterwards  as  a  steady  diet,  and  however  unpleas- 
ant the  task,  she  made  it  a  point  to  be  on  hand  in  a 
dainty  negligee  to  ppur  his  coffee.  The  fact  that 
she  knew  herself  to  be  at  her  best  in  billowy  chiffon 
and  lace  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  it. 

After  they  were  married,  she  assured  herself  re- 
peatedly, when  slipping  reluctantly  from  beneath  the 
warm  covers  to  stand  shivering  under  the  sting  of  a 
cold  shower — after  they  were  married,  she'd  stay 
in  bed  as  long  as  she  pleased — all  day  if  she  chose — 
but  now 

She  selected  a  filmy  gown  of  shell  pink,  with  its 
froth  of  lace  at  neck  and  wrist.  She  bound  her  black 
hair  tightly  about  her  small  head — she  never  wore 
boudoir  caps — her  head  was  entirely  too  well 
shaped.  Then  she  surveyed  herself  in  the  glass. 

"Even  Daphne  couldn't  look  better  at  eight  A. 
M.,"  she  yawned,  and  flinging  open  her  door,  ran 
downstairs. 

248 


The  Aftermath  249 

Bill  was  awaiting  her  in  the  breakfast  room.  She 
nodded  to  him  brightly  and  re-arranged  the  roses 
on  the  table.  It  was  one  of  her  beliefs  that  a  woman 
who  played  with  flowers  and  children  appealed  to 
a  man  as  charmingly  maternal — she  never  failed  to 
make  the  appeal  when  possible.  She  dropped  into 
her  place  and  waved  her  hand  to  his  chair. 

"Fruit's  all  ready,"  she  called — then  glanced  up. 
He  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  His  face  rather  terrible,  she  thought,  hag- 
gard— that  was  it — with  blue  shadows  under  his 
eyes  and  an  ominous  tenseness  about  his  jaw. 

"Bill!"  she  cried,  leaping  to  her  feet,  "Are  you 
ill?  You  look — you  look " 

"No,"  he  said  slowly.  "No,  I'm  not  ill.  I  haven't 
slept,  that's  all." 

"Oh !"  she  cried,  "you  poor  boy !  Let  me  get  you 
some  coffee — or — or " 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  want  anything.  I'd 
like  to  talk  with  you — that's  all." 

She  stared  at  him,  a  sudden  fear  gripping  her 
heart.  "Oh,  Bill!"  she  gasped,  "has  anything  gone 
wrong?  Has  the  money  you  invested " 

He  smiled.     "Not  that — it's  something  else." 

She  dropped  back  and  hid  the  relief  in  her  eyes  by 
lowering  them.  She  wished  to  goodness  he  would 
hurry  and  get  it  over  with.  It  was  so  unpleasant  and 
inconsiderate  to  start  a  discussion  before  having  had 
a  mouthful  of  food  to  sustain  one. 


250  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"May,"  he  said  heavily,  "I  won't  beat  around  the 
bush.  There's  no  reason  to.  I  heard  what  you  said 
about  me  last  night." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "You  heard !"  Then 

she  recovered  herself  and  laughed.  "Oh,  my  fiend- 
ish temper  makes  me  say  such  monstrous  things! 
You  mustn't  mind  me,  Bill.  I  never  mean  a  syllable 
of  them ! — never " 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently,  as  though  she 
were  interrupting  a  speech  he  had  rehearsed  a  hun- 
dred times. 

"I  heard  you  last  night.  I  didn't  intend  to  listen. 
I  was  coming  to  ask  you  if  you'd  mind  sitting  up  a 
bit  with  me.  I  was  having  a  rocky  time  of  it  down 
here  alone,  and  I  wanted  you.  I  was  just  about  to 
knock  when  I  heard  your  voice — I  stayed,  when  I 
found  out  it  was  I  you  were  talking  about — and  now 
I  want  to  tell  you  that  I'm  going  away " 

"Going  away!"  she  shrieked,  "going  away!  You 
can't  do  that !  You  can't  do  that !  You've  promised 

to  marry  me "  She  caught  her  breath,  and  her 

eyes  widened.  "I'll  sue  you — that's  what  I'll  do — 

I'll  ruin  you !  I'll "  She  was  trembling  and 

sobbing,  her  face  distorted  with  fury.  He  regarded 
her  with  a  cool  impersonal  interest  that  maddened 
her — it  was  as  though  she  were  a  curious  specimen  of 
something  he  had  heard  about  but  never  before  en- 
countered. 

"I've  been  thinking  it  over.    At  first  I  decided  to 


The  Aftermath  251 

leave  at  once — but  I  couldn't  do  that,  and  now  I'm 
prepared  to  pay  you  any  amount  in  reason — for  your 
services  to  me  in  the  past.  If  you  do  not  accept  it — 
if  you  insist  upon  dragging  this  matter  into  court  I 
shall  have  to  repeat  what  I  heard  you  say.  If  you 
are  sensible  you  will  take  the  money  and  go  away." 

Her  face  was  livid.  "Take  the  money — go 
away!"  she  screamed.  "Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool! 
Do  you  think  I  am  blind !  It  isn't  what  you  heard 
me  say  that's  making  you  do  this !  I  know  what  it 
is — yes,  I  do !  It's  that  Van  Steer  girl.  You  want 
her  now — you  want  to  dangle  your  fortune  and  your 
house  and  your  motors  before  her  eyes — you — who 
couldn't  use  a  knife  and  fork  decently  until  I  showed 
you  how!" 

He  gripped  the  back  of  a  chair.  His  fingers  were 
white.  "Take  care !"  he  rapped  out,  "I  haven't  been 
a  gentleman  very  long,  and  if  you  drag  her 
name  into  this  I'll  treat  you  exactly  as  the  men  I  came 
from  treat  a  woman  who's  proved  false  to  them!" 

She  shrank  from  him  but  her  lips  would  not  be 
stilled.  "You  think  she'd  take  you — you  think  she'd 
put  up  with  what  I  have!  I  tell  you  she  wouldn't 
look  at  you  if  she  knew  where  you  came  from !  She's 
stone !  she's  ice !  But  that's  not  all !  She's  as  bad 
as  I  am — yes,  she  is — for  she  hates  Phil  Colt,  but 
she's  marrying  him  for  his  money  all  the  same! 
You  think  you  can  buy  her,  don't  you?  You  think 
because  you  have  money  you  can  have  any  thing 


252  The  Road  of  Ambition 

you  please  J  Well,  you'll  find  she'll  have  you 
ordered  off  the  place  when  she  discovers  that  you 
and  your  father  and  his  father  before  him  were  poor 
ignorant  folks  who  didn't  know  enough  to  write  their 
own  names!" 

The  chair  back  snapped  beneath  his  fingers  and  he 
flung  it  from  him.  He  took  one  step  toward  her, 
then  his  clinched  hands  dropped  to  his  side,  his  white 
face  relaxed  a  trifle  and  he  straightened  up. 

"I  will  mail  you  a  check  for  any  amount  you 
name  in  reason,"  he  repeated  slowly.  "You  can 
send  my  things  to  my  office,"  and  he  was  gone. 

May  stared  after  him.  She  did  not  move  for  a 
long  while — it  was  as  though  at  a  signal  every  nerve 
in  her  body  had  suspended  action.  Even  her  power 
to  think  coherently  seemed  suddenly  to  have  deserted 
her.  She  remained  inert — immovable.  The  maid 
venturing  in,  bent  over  her. 

"Are  you  feelin'  sick,  ma'am?"  she  whispered. 

May  moistened  her  lips.  "All  right,"  she  man- 
aged to  say,  "leave  me  alone." 

The  girl  tiptoed  out  and  May  turned  her  head 
slowly.  Bill's  grape  fruit  in  its  cup  of  ice  stood 
awaiting  him.  His  tumbler  was  filled  with  cold 
water,  his  chair  half  drawn  out.  A  slow  smile  curved 
the  corner  of  her  lips — an  ugly  smile.  She  leaned 
confidently  toward  the  empty  chair  as  though  he  were 
there,  then  she  spoke. 

"I'm  not  through  with  you  yet,"  she  said  with  a 


The  Aftermath  253 

little    laugh    and   nod.      "Not   through    with   you 
yet.  .   .  .    !" 

As  far  as  the  public  were  concerned,  the  engage- 
ment between  May  Larabee  and  Big  Bill  Matthews 
was  broken  off  by  mutual  consent.  A  few  of  the 
older  members  of  the  Old  Families  clung  to  the  be- 
lief that  May,  being  a  Newcomb,  found  she  couldn't 
possibly  marry  a  man  of  the  people  when  it  came  to 
a  showdown.  But  Bethel's  younger  set,  knowing 
May  for  what  she  was,  speculated  wildly  on  the 
cause  of  the  break.  In  fact,  all  Bethel  hummed  with 
the  news  which  the  crisp  little  column  in  the  Courier 
announced.  There  was  no  answer  to  the  thousand 
and  one  questions  on  every  lip,  for  the  Newcomb 
house  was  closed  over  night  and  the  old  caretaker 
installed  knew  only  that  May  and  Monty  had  left 
for  parts  unknown.  As  for  Bill,  he  lived  in  an  ante- 
room of  his  dingy  office — a  room  rigged  up  with 
a  cot  and  bureau,  until  the  palace  on  the  hill  should 
be  ready  for  his  solitary  occupancy. 

The  matrons  of  Bethel  with  marriageable  daugh- 
ters, passing  the  huge  pile  of  stone  and  marble, 
gazed  upon  it  covetously  and  returning  home  pep- 
pered Bill  with  invitations  to  their  dinners  and 
dances.  He  did  not  accept,  however.  He  replied  to 
their  impassioned  telephones  briefly — the  new  row 
of  workingmen's  houses  was  going  up  on  Factory 
Street  and  he  had  to  be  there  himself  night  and  day 


254  The  Road  of  Ambition 

to  see  that  the  job  was  well  done — Bethel's  matrons 
were  discouraged,  but  they  did  not  despair. 

Mack  noticed  the  change  in  him.  Noticed  it  and 
shook  his  head. 

"It  don't  do  to  work  all  the  time,"  he  cautioned, 
but  Bill  did  not  heed  him.  He  rejoiced  in  his  work. 
It  gave  him  no  time  to  think — to  remember  the  vile 
torrent  of  words  that  had  fallen  from  May's  lips — 
the  distorted  hatred  of  her  face — the  sudden  aver- 
sion in  Daphne's  eyes. 

His  faith  in  these  women  of  his  new  world  was 
cruelly  shaken — shaken  from  its  very  foundation. 
These  creatures,  with  soft,  modulated  voices  which 
were  in  themselves  a  caress — said  things  they  did 
not  mean  and  meant  things  they  did  not  say — how 
was  one  to  trust  them  ?  Was  that  playing  the  game 
squarely?  No,  he  did  not  believe  in  them.  They 
were  all  alike.  And  he  retreated  into  a  shell  of  stern 
indifference,  which  rebuffed  all  attempts  at  friend- 
liness. 

Pattison  alone  invaded  his  office  and  gossiped 
about  things  in  general.  He  had  a  keen  curiosity 
to  find  out  just  what  it  was  that  had  changed  Bill. 
He  could  not  believe  it  was  the  break  with  May — 
a  man  should  offer  a  prayer  of  thanks  for  that!  He 
was  determined  to  ferret  it  out.  Something  had 
hurt  the  big  man  incalculably.  What  the  dickens 
could  it  have  been? 

And  because  he  saw  his  one  salvation  in  work — 


The  Aftermath  255 

in  gruelling — unsparing  work — Bill  plunged  anew 
into  the  whirl.  There  were  problems  arising  each 
day — no  longer  the  old  one  of  filling  orders  at  the 
Works — never  had  its  laborers  turned  out  such 
quantity  and  quality  of  steel  as  under  the  new  sys- 
tem. The  imminent  question  was  one  of  shipment — 
it  was  that  which  started  in  Bill's  mind  the  plan 
which  resulted  in  forming  the  Bethel  Transatlantic 
Company — a  company  which  came  to  astound  the 
world  by  its  very  magnitude  and  daring.  It  began 
simply.  Bill  had  asked  Pattison  to  drop  around — 
had  something  to  talk  over  with  him,  and  Pattison, 
knowing  Bill's  summons  meant  business,  came. 

It  was  an  evening  in  fall.  Pattison  found  Bill  at 
his  desk,  still  deep  in  work. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what's  up?"  Bill  dismissed  the 
yard  superintendent  who  had  brought  his  report  for 
O.  K.,  told  Mack  to  admit  no  one  and  pushed  back 
his  chair. 

"A  little  proposition  I've  framed  up.  Just  want 
to  run  over  it  with  you." 

Pattison  settled  himself  to  listen  and  Bill  waved 
his  hand  toward  a  pile  of  papers  Before  him.  "See 
them,"  he  said,  "stack  of  complaints — that's  what 
they  are — about  supplies  being  held  up — kicks  all 
around — more  of  them  every  day.  I've  been  get- 
ting so  many  that  I've  tried  to  figure  out  something 
to  meet  the  difficulty.  I've  smoked  over  it  and  slept 
over  it  and  I've  come  to  one  conclusion — — " 


256  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Which  is ?"  prompted  Pattison. 

"Which  is  that  the  thing  to  do  is  to  charter  some 
old  boats,  and  have  our  own  little  independent  trans- 
atlantic delivery  service  which  can  ply  back  and 
forth,  no  matter  who's  at  war  with  who." 

Pattison  reflected.  "There  was  some  talk  about 
it,  but  we  concluded  we'd  always  let  the  foreign 
lines  take  care  of  our  stuff,  so  why  not  continue?" 

Bill  hitched  his  shoulders  impatiently.  "There's 
a  good  reason.  The  best  in  the  world.  Aren't  the 
powers  abroad  calling  in  more  and  more  of  their 
ships  every  day — they're  probably  grinning  at  us 
by  this  time  for  a  lot  of  fools  who  are  content  to 
sit  back  cheerfully  and  let  them  kill  our  business  for 
us  instead  of  getting  out  and  lining  up  a  bunch  of 
vessels  of  our  own." 

"Well,  how  do  you  know  you  could  get  hold  of 
any  boats  that  would  carry  a  good  sized  cargo  ?" 

"I  know,  because  I've  been  in  touch  with  some 
ship  brokers  who  have  tipped  me  off  to  some  lake 
steamers.  In  fact,  I'm  going  to  take  a  run  up  to 
the  Great  Lakes  and  look  them  over  as  a  starter." 

Pattison  considered.  "Why  not  build  your  own 
boats?" 

"Can't.  The  conditions  in  the  shipyards  are  such 
they  couldn't  lay  down  a  ship  inside  of  two  years." 

Pattison  whistled.  "Looks  as  if  you're  not  the 
first  one  to  think  of  this.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  next?" 


The  Aftermath  257 

"If  the  proposition  looks  good  to  me,  I'm  going 
to  form  a  company  that  will  make  the  whole  world 
sit  up  and  take  notice — provided  I  can  get  one  thing 
I'm  after.  No,  I  won't  tell  you  yet.  Once  the  com- 
pany's formed,  and  I  find  the  Lake  boats  all  right, 
I'll  bring  them  down  the  St.  Lawrence  and  put  them 
in  shape?" 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Knock  out  their  condensers  and  boilers.  Can't 
use  fresh  water  engines  in  salt  water." 

"That's  right,"  nodded  Pattison.  "Displace- 
ment's greater,  isn't  it?  You'll  have  to  change  the 
plimsoll,  too.  It'll  take  more  cargo  in  salt." 

Bill  nodded.  "They  tell  me  the  boats  have  a  big 
cargo  hold — made  for  carrying  freight,  and  we  can 
board  up  the  state  rooms." 

"They  sell  by  tonnage,  don't  they?" 

"Yes,"  said  Bill,  "so  much  per  gross  ton." 

"What  do  they  run  by,  gasoline?" 

"No,  crude  oil  engines — full  rigged  ships  you 
know,  and  the  engine  allows  them  to  get  in  and  out 
of  port  without  being  towed — reduces  towing 
charges  right  there — just  start  your  engine  up  and 
chug  into  any  harbor." 

Pattison  was  intensely  interested.  "By  George  I 
you  certainly  have  gone  into  the  thing,  haven't  you?" 

Bill  nodded.  _  "It's  been  coming  a  long  time  and 
from  the  looks  of  things  now  the  sooner  I  put  it 
over  the  better." 


258  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"What  do  you  figure  doing?  Buying  the  ships 
outright?" 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "Not  at  present.  Price  is 
too  high.  You  can  charter  right  now  for  about  a 
hundred  thousand  a  month — the  owner  stands  the 
expense  of  the  crew  and  feeding  and  the  company 
puts  up  the  money  for  coal,  port  charges,  insurance 
and  wharfage." 

"Look  here,"  said  Pattison.  "Care  if  I  come 
along  when  you  run  up  to  the  Lakes?" 

Bill  smiled.  "I  was  going  to  ask  you  to.  I'm 
leaving  in  a  few  weeks." 

"Right!"  said  Pattison.  "There'll  be  no  trouble 
about  raising  capital  for  that  little  scheme — it  lis- 
tens good." 

"I  haven't  told  you  all  of  it,"  Bill  concluded,  "but 
I  will  as  soon  as  I  line  it  up." 

Pattison  sprang  up.  "Look  here,  I've  got  to 
meet  Decker  for  dinner  at  the  club — why  not  come 
along  and  slip  it  to  him?" 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "Not  yet;  besides  I've  got 
a  lot  of  work  to  clean  up  here  tonight." 

Pattison  lakl  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "Don't  go 
it  too  hard,  old  man — ruins  your  disposition  and 
digestion.  Think  of  Decker  and  his  tablets — think 
of  Colt  and  his  grouch  1" 

Bill  smiled.  "If  hard  work's  responsible  for 
that,  here's  where  I  retire." 

Pattison  shook  his  head.     "It  isn't  hard  work 


The  Aftermath  259 

that's  souring  Colt  so  much  as  it  is  that  scrapegrace 
son  of  his.  He's  in  no  end  of  hot  water  just  now." 

Bill  started.  "Why,  I  thought — I  understood  he 
was  to  marry " 

Pattison  laughed.  "Oh,  haven't  you  heard?  I 
mean  about  Daphne  Van  Steer  throwing  him  and  his 
millions  down  flat !  Just  like  her,  too.  Plucky  little 
thing.  Hasn't  a  cent  to  her  name — the  old  man  let  it 
slip  through  his  fingers — and  in  spite  of  it  she  won't 
marry  the  only  son  and  heir  of  the  Colts.  I  call  that 
ripping!" 

Bill  stared  at  him.  "Thrown  him  over!  You 
mean  that  in  spite  of  all  his  money  she  has  sent  him 
away!" 

Pattison  grinned  with  delight.  So  he  had  struck 
it  at  last.  It  was  Daphne  the  man  wanted. 

"I  don't  know  what  the  dickens  she's  going  to  do 
now.  She  has  had  everything  all  her  life,  but  it 
seemed  the  Judge  has  become  mixed  up  in  some  way 
with  Colt.  Owes  him  a  lot  of  money.  I'd  like  darn 
well  to  help  her  out,  but  she  won't  take  it  from  me, 
says  she'll  work.  Isn't  it  immense  the  way  women 
like  her  face  a  thing — no  squirming — look  it  smack 
in  the  eye — even  if  it's  a  knock  out!" 

Bill  sprang  to  his  feet  and  whirled  on  Pattison, 
his  eyes  filled  with  a  warm,  glad  light — the  tired 
lines — the  hardness  about  his  mouth  had  vanished 
as  though  by  magic.  He  grinned  boyishly. 

"I've  been   a   fool,    Pattison!"   he   snouted,    "a 


260  The  Road  of  Ambition 

fool  and  I've  you  to  thank  for  proving  it  to  me! 
God  bless  you!"  and  he  grasped  his  hand  eagerly. 

Pattison  stared.  "I  don't  get  you,"  he  lied,  "but 
whatever  it  is,  you're  welcome.  Coming?" 

Bill  smiled.  "No,  I  can't.  I'll  look  you  up  to- 
morrow, but  not " 

"Oh,  all  right,"  nodded  Pattison  as  he  picked  up 
his  hat,  "but  remember  that  all  work  and  no 
play 

Bill  laughed.    "I'll  remember,"  he  promised. 

Once  outside  Pattison  shook  his  head.  "Oh, 
Lord!"  he  sighed,  "I  suppose  I  should  have  stopped 
him.  It's  a  shame  to  think  what  she'll  do  to  him ! 
Bill  Matthews — and  Daphne  Van  Steer!  Why 
won't  men  with  heads  on  their  shoulders  know  their 
own  limitations?  Poor  Bill!" 

Bill  remained  a  long  while  at  his  desk,  his  chin 
on  his  hand.  Then  he  rose  slowly.  He  squared  his 
shoulders  as  a  diver  does  before  a  plunge.  He  drew 
on  his  coat  and  switched  off  the  light.  He  was  not 
precisely  sure  just  what  he  intended  doing — it  did 
not  much  matter — he  was  like  a  man  who  is  drugged 
— who  floats  blissfully  on  the  crest  of  the  waves  of 
thought — he  would  let  his  footsteps  guide  him.  He 
was  so  happy  he  wanted  to  shout  and  laugh  and 
sing.  Instead,  he  plunged  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  ran  down  the  stairs.  He  was  not  surprised  to 
find  himself  moving  toward  Bethel  proper.  He  won- 
dered if  she  would  be  at  home.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MAN     PROPOSES 

IT)  ILL  mounted  the  steps  of  the  Van  Steer  home 
•*"*  slowly.  Even  as  he  noted  the  beauty  of  its  co- 
lonial simplicity,  he  observed  its  genteel  shabbinsss. 
It  needed  paint  badly,  and  yet,  without  it,  it  rose 
stately  and  arresting.  He  rang  the  bell.  An  old 
butler  in  dingy  livery  flung  open  the  door.  He  hesi- 
tated at  Bill's  impetuosity.  He  drew  back  mumbling 
that  he  was  not  sure  if  Miss  Van  Steer  was  in.  He'd 
see.  He  admitted  him  grudgingly.  There  was  a 
quality  about  Bill  which  the  old  man  resented,  he 
was  too  intensely  alive — too  vital — he  had  no  busi- 
ness to  come  to  Judge  Van  Steer's.  They  had  done 

with  energy  there 

He  left  Bill  in  the  massive  library,  the  handsome 
room  whose  books  had  once  been  ranked  among  the 
world's  greatest  volumes.  Bill  gazed  about  eagerly. 
So  this  was  her  home.  The  place  where  she  had 
played  at  being  grown  up  and  had  finally  emerged 
into  the  splendid  creature  he  knew.  It  was  like  her 
— this  room — beautiful  but  cold — but  full  of  unex- 
plored wonders — its  volumes  containing  tears  and 

laughter  and  warm,  throbbing  passions 

261 


262  The  Road  of  Ambition 

On  the  table  a  cluster  of  golden  rod  reared  their 
yellow  heads — that  was  like  her,  too — the  unstudied 
simplicity.  May  would  have  chosen  sunset  roses,  or 
white  orchids,  but  golden  rod.  .  .  . 

"Did  you  wish  to  see  me?"  Fie  turned  with  a 
guilty  start  to  find  Daphne  behind  him.  He  was 
almost  afraid  she  might  read  his  thoughts. 

She  faced  him  gravely.  He  thought  she  looked 
pale  and  very  tired — but  her  lips  smiled  cordially 
and  she  held  out  her  hand.  He  took  it  in  an  agony 
of  embarrassment.  What  could  he  say  to  her,  to 
this  princess  in  her  castle?  He  did  not  know  how 
to  begin — if  only  one  did  not  need  words — if  one 
could  but  cast  them  to  the  four  winds 

She  dropped  in  a  low  chair  and  nodded  to  another. 

"I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Matthews. 
I  don't  know  why  you  should  or  what  your  errand 
may  be,  but  it  gives  me  the  opportunity  to  say  some- 
thing I  have  been  wanting  to  say  for  a  long  while — 
ever  since  that  night " 

He  waited  and  she  continued  earnestly,  her  eyes 
on  the  window  behind  him : 

"You  were  kind  enough  to  tell  me  a  little  about 
yourself  that  evening.  I  don't  know  why  you  did. 
I  suppose  it  all  came  about  through  my  recognizing 
you,  and  after  you  had  told  me — all,  I — I  didn't 
quite  know  what  to  say,"  she  smiled  at  him. 
"I  had  never  met  any  one — like  you  before  and 
I  thought — I  supposed — oh,  what  I  want  to  say 


Man  Proposes  263 

is  that  I'm  sorry  I  acted  as  I  did  and  that  I  admire 
you  very  much  for  all  you  have  accomplished."  Her 
eyes  met  his,  and  she  was  smiling  frankly  now. 
"There.  Now  you  must  tell  me  what  you  want.  I 
know  you  won't  mind  if  I  don't  give  you  a  great  deal 
of  time  because  my  father  is  not  well,  and  can  do  so 
little  toward  helping  with  the  packing,  so  I " 

"Packing!"  he  cried.     "Are  you  going  away?" 

She  nodded  without  meeting  his  eye.  "Yes,  I 
think  it  best.  Father's  health  ...  so  we're  closing 
the  old  house  and "  she  stopped  suddenly. 

"But  you're  coming  back?"  he  pursued. 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  I  don't  think  so.  You 
see  we  are  selling  the  things — we  won't  have  any 
place  for  them — where  we  are  going,  and  the  house 
is  so  large  it  would  be  foolish  to  keep  it,  wouldn't 
it?"  Again  she  paused,  her  head  bent,  then  she 
raised  it  quickly.  "But  here  I  am  talking  about  my- 
self and  you  haven't  said  a  word,  have  you?  Now 
then,  Mr.  Matthews,  what  is  it  you  want?" 

He  looked  at  her  gravely — she  was  so  slight — 
so  beautiful.  She  was  fighting  this  battle  so  bravely 
— her  kind  of  women  always  did — thoroughbreds  to 
the  backbone.  He  resolved  on  a  desperate  step. 
"There  is  just  one  thing  I  want,  Miss  Van  Steer," 
he  said  slowly — "and  that  is  yourself." 

She  stared  at  him  with  startled  eyes.  "I  don't 
understand,"  she  said  at  length.  He  leaned  forward. 

"I  know  you  don't.    I  scarcely  understand  my  own 


264  The  Road  of  Ambition 

courage  in  telling  you  this.  I  don't  believe  I  would 
dare  except  that  I  am  afraid  you  may  slip  away 
somewhere  before  I  can  say  it.  I  started  to  tell 
you  that  night.  Then  I  stopped.  I  stopped  be- 
cause I  was  bound  to  May  Larabee,  and  I  had  heard 
that  you  were  to  marry  Colt's  son.  It  seemed  then 
that  you  were  further  away  than  ever  and  yet  some- 
thing told  me  that  all  obstacles  would  be  swept  aside 
— that  we  would  come  face  to  face  this  way  some 
day  and  that  I  would  be  able  to  ask  you  to  become 

my  wife "    He  waited  for  her  to  speak  but  she 

did  not,  so  he  plunged  on  boldly :  "In  spite  of  the  fact 
that  my  people  have  always  worked  for  yours — 
that  I  am  nothing  to  you  but  a  laborer  who  has  a 
smattering  of  education — in  spite  of  that — in  spite 
of  everything  I'm  going  to  have  you.  Yes,  I  am. 
You  can't  say  no.  You  can  fight  against  it  any  way 
you  choose,  but  you  are  the  woman  I  want.  And 

what's   more    I'm   going   to    make   you    proud   to 

bw 
e 

He  stopped  before  the  horror  in  her  eyes.  "How 
dare  you!  she  gasped.  "How  dare  you  say  such 
things  to  me!" 

He  smiled  at  her.  He  was  not  afraid  now.  No, 
he  was  carried  on  by  something  that  swept  fear 
aside.  He  wished  he  could  take  her  in  his  arms,  just 
once. 

She  had  leaped  to  her  feet.  "I  want  you  to  go !" 
she  was  crying,  her  face  scarlet.  "I  have  done 


Man  Proposes  265 

nothing  to  let  you  suppose  you  could  say — could 
think " 

"You  are  going  to  marry  me!"  he  cut  her  short. 
"I  always  get  what  I  set  out  to,  and  from  the  mo- 
ment I  saw  you  in  your  car  I  wanted  you.  I  wanted 
you  first  of  all  because  you  were  the  sort  of  woman 
I  felt  I  could  never  have — because  you  would  be  an 
ornament  to  the  house  I  planned  to  build,  because  I 
could  be  proud  to  have  you  beside  me  in  the 
motors  I  planned  to  own.  But  now  I  want  you  for 
one  reason — and  nothing  this  side  of  heaven  will 
stop  my  getting  you.  I  want  you  because  I  love 
you " 

"Oh,"  she  panted.  "Oh !"  then  she  burst 

into  tears,  covering  her  face  with  her  arm  like  a 
little  girl.  He  took  a  step  toward  her,  then  stopped, 
his  face  white. 

"I  wouldn't  make  you  cry  for  the  world.  I 
wouldn't  hurt  you  for  all  the  gold  in  creation.  I 
don't  want  to  frighten  you.  If  you  come  to  me  I 
swear  I'll  never  touch  you  until  you  ask  me  to. 
Never — but  you  will — and  when  you  do — when  you 

do!  .  .  r 

He  stopped,  but  she  did  not  speak;  and  turning  on 
his  heel  he  left  her.  He  did  not  dare  remain  another 
instant.  When  he  reached  the  door  he  looked  back. 
She  seemed  so  little  and  alone  in  the  cold  shelter  of 
the  great  room.  "Don't  be  afraid,"  he  whispered, 
"remember  always  I  love  you  too  well  to  hurt  you." 


266  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Somehow  he  gained  the  street — he  tried  to  re- 
member what  he  had  said — but  he  could  not — it  was 
all  confused — strange. 

In  the  days  that  passed,  his  mind  was  in  a  state 
of  turmoil.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  not 
sure  how  to  proceed.  He  was  not  sure  of  anything 
save  that  he  must  let  her  know  that  he  was  in  earn- 
est— that  he  wished  to  help  her.  A  dozen  times  a 
day  he  framed  a  letter  to  her  that  would  explain  his 
outburst — only  to  tear  it  to  pieces.  A  dozen  times 
he  lifted  the  receiver  to  speak  the  words  that  burned 
on  his  lips — but  dared  not.  There  were  moments 
when  he  was  grimly  amused  at  himself.  He  had  be- 
lieved that  love  was  a  state  which  existed  in  books 
alone — well,  he  was  learning  each  day  what  it  meant 
to  want  a  woman  with  one's  whole  heart  and  soul — 
to  want  her  on  any  terms,  so  long  as  she  came.  .  .  . 

Once  he  had  caught  sight  of  her  in  Bethel  Proper. 
Had  hurried  toward  her  with  a  thumping  heart,  but 
she  averted  her  head — he  was  not  sure  she  had 
seen  him — not  sure  until  the  sweep  of  crimson  that 
flooded  her  throat  and  cheeks  gave  her  away. 

He  wondered  how  under  the  sun  he  was  to  ap- 
proach her! — if  there  were  only  someone  to  inter- 
cede for  him !  Then  as  though  in  answer  to  his  un- 
spoken prayer,  he  remembered  Pattison's  words — 
her  father  was  in  money  difficulties  with  Colt — the 
thing  to  do  was  to  see  Van  Steer — gain  his  confi- 
dence. 


Man  Proposes  267 

He  wasted  no  time.  He  learned  from  Pattison 
that  the  Judge  might  be  found  at  the  Bethel  Steel 
Club,  where  he  had  gone  in  search  of  Colt. 

Bill  hurried  around.  Yes,  a  page  assured  him 
Mr.  Colt  was  there  with  Judge  Van  Steer.  They 
had  gone  upstairs— he  guessed  they  were  in  con- 
ference. Bill  brushed  the  boy  aside.  He  knew  that 
Van  Steer  had  come  there  for  just  one  reason — to 
beg  for  mercy — Colt  would  refuse  and  that  was  the 
psychological  moment  to  step  in. 

He  found  the  room.  He  could  hear  Colt's  curt 
growl — the  words  he  did  not  catch,  but  he  gathered 
from  the  tone  that  Colt  was  ugly — ugly  and  exceed- 
ingly irritated.  He  waited  impatiently  for  the  inter- 
view to  end.  It  did.  Rather  more  suddenly  than 
he  had  expected.  Colt  flung  open  the  door. 

"Don't  come  here  again,  understand,"  he  was 
snarling,  when  he  caught  sight  of  Bill.  For  an  in- 
stant his  eyes  narrowed — but  the  moment's  suspicion 
was  swept  aside.  "Well,  Matthews,"  he  said  pleas- 
antly, "want  to  see  me?" 

"No,"  said  Bill,  quietly,  meeting  his  eyes  squarely. 
"Judge  Van  Steer." 

Colt  studied  him  a  minute  without  speaking,  then 
he  bowed.  "He's  inside." 

Bill  waited  until  Colt  had  begun  to  descend  the 
stairs — he  did  not  wish  an  eavesdropper — then  he 
entered  the  room  and  slowly  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him. 


268  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Van  Steer  was  huddled  in  his  chair.  His  face  was 
gray.  His  lips  dry.  He  mopped  his  forehead  with 
nervous  taps.  Bill  stood  before  him  and  the  Judge 
raised  his  eyes.  They  were  bloodshot — hunted. 

When  he  saw  it  was  a  stranger  he  scrambled  to 
his  feet. 

"You — you  want  Mr.  Colt,  don't  you?"  he  began 
hurriedly.  uHe  was  here  a  minute  ago — he " 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "I've  come  to  talk  to  you, 
Judge,"  said  he. 

Van  Steer  hesitated.  "I  don't  know  you."  He 
wondered  with  fluttering  heart  what  this  big  man 
wanted  of  him.  He  wondered  if  he  owed  him 
money.  But  the  man  was  smiling  and  Van  Steer, 
miserable  and  ill  at  ease,  waited. 

"I  reckon  you  know  me,  Judge,"  he  said  slowly. 
"I'm  Bill  Matthews,  of  Bethel  Steel." 

The  Judge  peered  up  at  him  with  anxious  eyes. 
"To  be  sure,"  he  said.  "My  eyes  are  so  bad — I'm 
afraid  there's  nothing  I  can  do  for  you,  Mr.  Mat- 
thews." He  was  pitifully  anxious  to  get  away — 
away  from  his  bitter  humiliation,  but  Bill  was  speak- 
ing. 

"Well,  perhaps  there  is  something  I  can  do  for 
you,"  he  said  easily.  "I  thought  so  or  I  wouldn't 
have  come  around." 

"I  don't  see "  broke  in  the  Judge,  but  Bill  cut 

him  short. 

"It's  this  way.     I  can't  help  having  heard  a  thing 


Man  Proposes  269 

or  two  in  Bethel  about  your  being  tied  up  with  a  deal 
that's  going  wrong.  I'm  not  offering  sympathy — 
nothing  like  that,  but  I've  come  here  to  say  I  want 
to  help  you." 

The  Judge  had  drawn  himself  up,  his  thin  cheeks 
flushed. 

"I  can't  see,  sir,  why  you  as  a  stranger  should — 
suppose  I  would — accept  assistance  from  you!" 

"You  can,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  doing  this 
because  I  care  for  your  daughter — I  want  to  marry 
her — that  gives  a  man  a  right  to  come  to  a  woman's 
father  in  time  of  trouble,  doesn't  it?" 

The  Judge  stared  at  him.  "You  say  you  care  for 
my  daughter?"  he  repeated,  then  he  shook  his  head. 
"There  must  be  some  mistake,  sir.  I  have  never 
heard  her  speak  of  you." 

Bill  smiled.  "I  didn't  expect  her  to — you  see,  my 
people  and  yours  are  as  far  apart  as  the  poles." 

"Your  people?    I  don't  understand " 

"Don't  misunderstand  me.  I'm  as  proud  of  my 
ancestors  as  you  are  of  yours — the  only  difference 
is  that  mine  worked  as  wage  earners  in  the  factory 
that  yours  built  and  owned.  Your  daughter  won't 
overlook  that  fact." 

"But  there  is  nothing  I  can  do  if  she " 

"You're  wrong  there.  You  can.  You  can  tell  her 
what  she  will  not  give  me  a  chance  to  say — you  can 
tell  her  that  the  one  reason  I  want  her  is  because  she 
is  the  only  woman  I  ever  have  cared  for.  Because 


270  The  Road  of  Ambition 

I  am  certain  that  I  can  make  her  care  for  me 

You  can  tell  her  that  I  want  her  now  because  she 
is  in  trouble  and  it  will  be  my  right  to  shield 
and  help  her — you  can  tell  her  that  as  my  wife  she 
will  be  absolutely  free  to  live  her  own  life  until  she 
is  content  to  give  herself  to  me.  My  record  is  clean 
— I've  worked  hard  all  my  life — and  I'm  not 
ashamed  to  come  to  her  or  to  you " 

He  stopped  suddenly.  After  all,  what  reason  had 
he  to  suppose  Judge  Van  Steer  would  care — there 
were  other  men  in  Daphne's  life.  Had  he  aimed  too 
high — was  she  beyond  him?  He  flung  himself  to  his 
feet. 

"Look  here,"  he  shot  out  passionately,  "if  you 
loved  a  woman  it  wouldn't  matter  how  you  went 
about  it  so  long  as  you  got  her,  would  it? — well, 
that's  about  the  size  of  it.  I'm  going  to  have  her 
and  I  want  you  to  help  me — what's  the  answer?" 

The  Judge  was  staring  at  him — he  was  amazed — 
bewildered — but  he  was  also  impressed — impressed 
and  carried  away  by  relief.  What  in  heaven's  name 
did  Daphne  want?  Here  was  a  man  whose  name 
was  on  every  lip — a  genius  of  finance — a  steel  wiz- 
ard— a  man  who  was  a  man ! 

"I  can  promise  nothing,"  he  found  himself  say- 
ing. "She  has  a  mind  of  her  own  in  these  matters." 

Bill's  face  flushed  eagerly.  "Then  you  will  talk 
to  her — tell  her  what  I  have  said?" 

The  Judge  bowed.     "I  see  no  reason  why  she 


Man  Proposes  271 

should  not  hear  what  you  have  just  told  me,"  and  he 
held  out  his  hand.    Bill  grasped  it  warmly. 

uThank  you,"  he  cried  boyishly.     "Thank  you." 

Daphne  was  amazingly  non-committal  as  she  lis- 
tened with  flaming  cheeks  to  her  father's  recital. 
Then  she  turned  on  him. 

"The  man's  impudence  is  monstrous — if  he 
weren't  an  upstart — if  he  weren't " 

The  Judge's  thin  face  was  pinched  with  anxiety. 

"Well,  what  are  we  to  do?"  he  demanded,  queru- 
lously. 

She  faced  him.  "I  said  I  would  work.  Once 
we're  away  from  Bethel  I  shall  find  a  place — there 
must  be  a  hundred  things  for  a  girl  to  do." 

"Yes,  but  you  haven't  thought  what  will  become 
of  me  all  the  long  days  that  you  are  away  from  me, 
have  you?  You  haven't  thought  how  I  shall  man- 
age to  exist  in  some  little  room  in  a  lodging  house — 
hour  after  hour  alone — I,  a  Van  Steer — you  haven't 
thought  of  that,  have  you  ?  Surely,  Daphne,  it's  time 
you  considered  someone  beside  yourself!" 

"Someone  beside  myself!"  she  gasped.  "Oh, 
father!"  then  stopped  short.  The  weak  tears  of  old 
age  were  coursing  down  his  cheeks. 

"Here  is  a  chance — an  honorable  chance,  to  save 
us — but  you  won't  take  it — no,  you'd  rather  rob  me 
of  my  home — my  books — my  very  life — do  you 
think  I  can  live  that  way — it's  not  as  though  I  were 


272  The  Road  of  Ambition 

young — I'm  an  old  man — and  now — now — I  shall 
have  to  give  up  all  this.  It's  too  hard — too  hard." 

She  was  breathing  rapidly.  It  seemed  as  though 
she  could  not  bear  to  see  him  weep — as  though  the 
sound  of  his  broken  sobs  would  wrench  her  heart — 
suddenly  she  flew  to  him  and  flung  her  arms  about 
his  neck. 

"Don't — don't!"  she  cried.  "I'll  do  anything 
— anything  to  make  you  happy — you  shall  stay  in 
Bethel — you  shall  stay  here.  It  would  kill  you  to  go 
— yes — yes — I  know  it  would.  I'll  marry  him — do 
you  hear  me,  I'll  marry  him.  He  has  promised  to  let 
me  live  my  own  life — you  heard  him  say  so — all  he 
wants  is  to  boast  that  he  has  been  able  to — to  buy 
me.  I  know  his  kind — but  he  is  better  than  Phil — 
or  the  others — they  wouldn't  promise — yes,  I'll  do 
anything  you  want  me  to — Daddy,  write  to  him — 
tell  him  I'm  ready — nothing  matters  but  you " 

Bill  received  the  Judge's  letter  next  morning.  He 
did  not  open  it  until  he  had  read  his  others — he  did 
not  dare.  At  length  he  broke  the  seal.  He  turned  it 
over  and  stared  at  the  signature,  "Trowbridge  Van 
Steer."  His  hand  trembled  a  trifle  as  he  straight- 
ened it  out  and  began  at  the  beginning.  It  was  in 
the  Judge's  graceful  hand — an  unparalled  opportun- 
ity for  a  rhetorical  outburst. 

"I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  my  daughter 
Daphne  has  reconsidered  her  decision " 


Man  Proposes  273 

Bill  dropped  it  and  stared  before  him.  Reconsid- 
ered— then  that  meant — everything.  .  .  .  She  was 

to  be  his  after  all — his He  leaped  up — he 

thrust  his  papers  aside — he  did  not  answer  Mack's 
questions — he  caught  up  the  letter  and  pulled  on  his 
hat — he  could  not  remain  indoors — the  sky  alone 
could  bound  his  feelings.  He  wanted  to  be  alone — 
to  think 

The  crisp  chill  in  the  air  filled  his  lungs — he 
breathed  deeply — his  eyes  alight.  Oh,  it  was  good 
to  be  alive!  .  .  . 

"I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  my  daugh- 
ter Daphne "  His  heart  sang  loud  in  his  ears — 

he  struck  out — he  did  not  care  where.  He  must 
think — that  was  it — think  of  this  new  wonder. 

It  seemed  to  him  as  though  all  his  life  had  been 
a  preparation  for  this  event.  The  grilling  years  of 
his  youth — the  tremendous  struggle  to  survive  had 
made  his  body  strong — his  mind  alert — proved  his 
fitness  to  live  and  conquer. 

This  was  his  triumph.  All  he  had  striven  for — 
wealth — position — all  was  but  paving  the  way  for 
the  time  when  she  would  join  her  hand  in  his.  He 
and  Daphne  Van  Steer.  .  .  !  He  a  slave  at  the 
plant,  she  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  had  never 
worked  in  his  life.  .  .  ! 

He  wondered  what  May  would  say  when  she 
heard.  "She's  stone !  She's  ice !  She'll  never  look 
at  you  when  she  knows  where  you  come  from!" 


274          The  Road  of  Ambition 

But  she  had!    She  had! 

He  wondered  what  Nedda  would  say — little 
Nedda  of  whom  he  had  not  thought  of  for  many  a 
long  month!  She  would  be  happy  for  him.  She 
would  listen  with  eager  eyes  and  folded  hands  while 
he  told  her  about  it  all — she  had  always  rejoiced  in 
his  triumphs 

He  found  his  footsteps  turning  toward  the  Works 
— he  was  not  surprised — he  wanted  to  go  there — it 
called  him  as  a  parent  her  child.  He  wanted  to  con- 
fide his  joy  to  the  roaring  furnaces — the  shrieking 
saws.  .  .  . 

He  entered  the  yard — he  smiled  at  the  grimy  men 
who  scuttled  back  and  forth — each  intent  on  his  little 
task — perhaps  they,  too,  had  hopes  and  dreams  of 
power.  He  drew  near  the  great  basic  furnaces — 
the  sparks  were  red — a  sheet  of  flame — the  wave  of 
heat  reached  out  and  enveloped  him — he  luxuriated 
in  its  fierceness — it  was  like  a  parent's  arms  folding 
him  close. 

He  grinned  as  the  men  sprang  back — he  could 
stand  the  scorching — he  had  stood  it  for  fifteen  long 
years  without  a  quiver — he  wasn't  going  to  flinch 
before  it  now!  It  seemed  to  call  to  him — to  whis- 
per to  him  as  in  the  old  days — a  refrain  which 

set  his  pulses  leaping "Power — power — more 

power "  That  was  it !  He  had  set  a  goal  for 

himself  in  the  clouds — and  he  had  reached  it — he 
had  said  a  man  who  could  control  steel  could  control 


Man  Proposes  275 

the  world !  He  had  proved  it !  That  was  what  steel 
taught  her  sons — to  be  fearless — to  be  strong — or 
go  under  .  .  . 

His  breath  quickened — his  heart  beat  rapidly 
in  answer  to  the  thunder  of  the  hammer  as  it 
crashed  on  white  hot  steel — "Power — power — more 
power,"  he  shouted,  then  quite  suddenly  he  shut  his 
eyes,  "God  make  me  good  to  her — always,"  he 
prayed.  He  was  not  sure  what  made  him  do  it.  He 
had  not  prayed  for  a  long  while. 

Two  weeks  later  they  were  quietly  married  in  the 
library  of  the  Van  Steer  home,  and  at  nightfall  Bill 
and  his  bride  set  out  for  the  great  house  on  the  hill 
which  shone  its  welcome  to  them  from  every  window. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    HOMECOMING 

HP  HERE  was  a  staff  of  eager  servants  awaiting 
•*•      them,   headed  by   Mrs.   Kemble — the   house- 
keeper— a  round-faced,  cheery  little  woman.     She 
was  fairly  a-tiptoe  with  excitement. 

The  machine  drew  up  at  the  door — his  door. 
The  servants  ran  down  to  assist  with  the  robes — his 
servants — and  he  leaped  out  and  gave  his  hand  to 
the  woman  who  had  come  to  rule  over  his  house — 
the  exquisite  creature  of  snow  and  fire  who  had 
given  herself  into  his  keeping. 

She  let  her  hand  rest  on  his  arm — so  lightly  he 
scarcely  felt  it.  Her  eyes  were  weary  as  though  she 
had  not  slept  for  many  nights  but  her  face  lightened 
and  her  lips  smiled  as  she  greeted  the  servants — 
all  curious  for  a  glimpse  of  their  new  mistress.  Mrs. 
Kemble  bustled  forward  importantly. 

"You'll  be  wanting  to  go  to  your  room,  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, and  take  your  things  off  before  you  look 
around." 

"Yes,  please,"  she  said  almost  eagerly,  and  then 
as  though  fearing  her  voice  had  betrayed  her,  she 
turned  to  Bill. 

276 


The  Homecoming  277 

"Shall  I  do  that?"  she  asked,  without  meeting 
his  eyes.  He  nodded. 

"Yes — and  I'll  join  you  at  supper — afterwards 
we'll  stroll  through  the  rooms,  if  you  like." 

She  did  not  answer  but  followed  Mrs.  Kemble  to 
the  lift.  He  watched  her  regal  bearing — the  chis- 
eled beauty  of  her  white  face.  She  was  glorious — 
superb — and  she  was  his.  .  .  . 

He  hurried  to  his  own  room — he  wanted  to  dress 
— dress  for  their  first  supper  together.  He  had 
chosen  the  east  wing — and  had  given  her  the  south. 
She  was  to  be  free  until  she  came  to  him.  He  won- 
dered if  he  could  wait  for  the  woman  of  ice  to 
melt — would  it  not  be  best  to  sweep  her  to  him — 
to  make  her  feel  at  once  the  strength — the  fire  of 
his  love?  He  shook  his  head.  She  had  come  to  him 
for  one  reason  only — to  save  her  father  from  ruin 
— he  had  given  her  his  word — if  she  were  only  not 
so  beautiful  .  .  . 

He  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  great  stairway.  She 
had  dressed  in  a  gown  of  pale  green  that  made  her 
look  like  a  sea  sprite — it  was  a  liquid  color — which 
offset  the  red  lights  in  her  hair — the  whiteness  of  her 
throat  and  arms.  He  stared  at  her  for  a  minute  and 
she  returned  his  gaze  with  eyes  a  trifle  wide.  She 
was  afraid — he  told  himself — afraid  of  him  .  .  . 

"Shall  we  go  in?"  he  said  abruptly.  She  nodded; 
he  thought  she  seemed  relieved,  but  she  did  not 
answer. 


278  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  had  built  two  dining-rooms — one  a  splendid 
affair  of  beamed  ceilings  and  carved  wainscoting — a 
place  for  banquets  and  feasting.  The  other,  a  tiny 
bower  of  blue  tinted  walls  and  soft  hangings — a 
room  created  solely  for  the  delectation  of  a  bride 
and  groom.  He  entered  eagerly — the  glow  of 
shaded  candles — the  gleam  of  silver  and  glass- 
ware— the  sheen  of  damask — all  seemed  to  him 
charmingly  intimate.  But  she  hung  back,  as  though 
distrusting  its  warm  coziness — its  dainty  comfort. 
Then  she  recovered  herself  and  took  her  place  at  the 
table. 

The  butler  served  them,  and  withdrew  discreetly. 
Neither  spoke — it  was  almost  as  though  they  were 
an  old,  staid  couple,  completely  at  ease  in  each  oth- 
er's company.  Bill  was  content  to  look  at  her — he 
rejoiced  in  the  colors  and  lights  in  her  hair — the 
sweep  of  her  dark  lashes — the  slenderness  of  her 
throat — the  rise  and  fall  of  her  bosom. 

She  did  not  touch  her  food,  she  toyed  with  it,  but 
at  length  laid  down  her  fork. 

"Let  them  bring  you  something  else,"  he  urged. 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "Nothing,"  she  replied. 
Her  voice  was  so  low  he  scarcely  heard.  She  was 
frightened,  he  concluded — and  what  was  more  she 
wouldn't  show  it — not  for  the  world! — blue  blood 
that! — scared  to  death — but  going  through  with  it 
like  a  thoroughbred ! — yes,  by  George !  game  to  the 
backbone !  He  leaned  toward  her. 


The  Homecoming  279 

"This  house  is  yours — these  servants  are  yours — 
you  are  to  do  whatever  you  please — see  whom  you 
please,  understand?" 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"I  shall  do  whatever  you  wish,"  she  answered 
him. 

Whatever  he  wished !  By  George  1  if  she  did  that 
she  would  let  him  catch  her  in  his  arms — let  him 
press  his  lips  to  her  hair — her  lips — her  throat — 
whatever  he  wished !  How  was  he  going  to  live  in 
the  same  house  with  this  woman  and  keep  a  sharp 

hold  on  himself He  had  given  her  his 

word.  .  .  . 

She  must  have  read  something  of  this  in  his  eyes, 
for  she  lowered  her  own  and  waited. 

"You  will  be  free  to  come  and  go  as  you  choose — 
I  shall  be  busy — very  busy  for  a  time — big  scheme 
on  with  Pattison — there'll  be  days  and  weeks  when 
I  shall  have  to  be  away — I  shall  never  interfere  with 
you — but  I  want  to  say  this  now — and  then  we'll 
drop  the  subject  forever.  You're  going  to  care  for 
me  some  day — and  when  you  do — I  shall  tell  you 
all  the  things  I  should  like  to  say  to  you  tonight." 

A  warm  flame  of  color  leaped  to  her  face  but  she 
did  not  reply. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  answered  him.  "I  shall 
always  do  as  you  wish,"  and  they  spoke  no  more. 

After  supper  he  took  her  through  the  chain  of 
rooms.  She  followed  him  quietly. 


280  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  was  like  a  guest — a  guest  who  is  rather  diffi- 
dent, only  when  she  came  face  to  face  with  the  great 
Van  Dyck,  "Mary,  Duchess  of  Norfolk,"  which  had 
been  purchased  for  him  at  a  fabulous  price  from  the 
Earl  of  Wrexall's  collection — only  then  did  her  man- 
ner change. 

"Oh,  how  splendid,"  she  cried,  "how  wonderful 
to  own  a  painting  like  that!" 

He  was  pleased.  Personally,  he  preferred  a  little 
study  by  an  unknown  artist — a  thing  of  warm  color 
and  bold  strokes  showing  the  dirt-streaked  face  of  a 
stoker  in  the  red  glare  of  a  furnace  fire. 

They  entered  the  music  room.  It  was  a  beautiful 
room,  rising  to  a  lofty  ceiling — a  room  in  which 
rich  brown  tones  entered  largely  into  the  walls  and 
furnishings.  A  fire  leaped  in  the  hearth,  the  only 
light.  Before  it  was  spread  a  white  bear  rug — an 
enormous  shaggy  skin,  fully  ten  feet  long.  She 
dropped  on  a  couch  back  from  the  fire's  glare — half 
in  shadow — but  he  stood  before  the  fireplace  facing 
her.  She  seemed  unconscious  of  him  except  for  a 
certain  tension  about  her  lithe  body — her  hands  were 
so  tightly  clasped  that  the  fingertips  and  nails  showed 
white. 

He  smiled  a  trifle.  She  did  not  trust  him — that 
was  it — she  was  on  her  guard — he  didn't  blame  her 
either — he  scarcely  trusted  himself.  At  last  he 
spoke. 

"There  is  one  thing  I'd  like  you  to  do  for  me." 


The  Homecoming  281 

She  looked  up,  startled.  He  could  see  the  quick 
fear  in  her  eyes.  He  fumbled  in  his  pocket. 

"I  want  you  to  wear  this " 

She  smiled  in  sudden  relief — as  he  dropped  into 
her  hand  the  bracelet  whose  green  stones  so  curiously 
matched  her  eyes. 

She  examined  it  without  comment. 

"I  bought  it  for  you  long  ago — very  long  ago — I 
hoped  some  day  I  might  give  it  to  you — it's  of  no 
great  value  but  I  should  like  to  see  it  on  your  arm." 

She  slipped  it  over  her  fingers  and  wrist — she 
nodded. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  wear  it." 

A  long  silence  fell.  The  fire  had  changed  to  the 
deep  crimson  glow  that  turns  to  embers — the  shad- 
ows in  the  room  had  lengthened.  He  could  not  see 
her  face — though  her  neck  and  arms  gleamed  like 
snow  and  the  firelight  played  fitfully  on  her  skirt — 
her  ankles. 

Suddenly  she  rose.  "May  I  go — now,"  she  said. 
"I'm  very  tired." 

He  bowed — he  did  not  trust  his  voice.  He  must 
hold  on  to  himself.  He  was  going  to  have  a  bad 
time  of  it  if  his  heart  thumped  every  time  she  spoke 
— if  his  hands  trembled  .  .  . 

"I  hope  you  will  be  happy  here — I  hope  you  will 

not  regret "  he  said  stiffly — then  stopped — she 

had  reached  the  door — she  stood  framed  there — a 
startled,  slender  creature  with  parted  lips  and  stormy 


282  The  Road  of  Ambition 

eyes — never  had  she  seemed  so  adorable — so  utterly 
desirable.  He  called  himself  a  fool  to  let  her  go 
from  him  thus — on  their  bridal  night — did  she  think 
that  water  ran  in  his  veins  instead  of  blood — did 
she  think  .  .  . 

"Wait,"  he  commanded  hoarsely — he  reached  her 
side. 

"After  all,  you  are  my  wife "  he  heard  him- 
self crying,  "after  all  the  law  permits " 

She  had  not  moved,  only  her  breath  fluttered — 
then  she  spoke  swiftly — desperately. 

"The  law  permits  you  to  do  as  you  choose — but 
if  you  touch  me — if  you  touch  me  after  what  you 
have  promised,  I  shall  hate  you — hate  you — hate 
you  as  long  as  I  live " 

Her  voice  startled  him.  The  flush  in  his  face  re- 
ceded— he  bowed. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "you  are  quite  right — I  for- 
got for  a  moment — the  darkness — your  beauty — it 
was  like  wine.  I  shall  not  forget  again.  Good- 
night  "  and  he  turned  back  to  the  fire.  When  he 

looked  around  she  was  gone. 

He  paced  the  room  swiftly — it  seemed  narrow — 
oppressive.  He  must  have  wide  spaces  and  the  slap 
of  cold  air  on  his  face.  He  went  outdoors. 

The  first  frost  of  fall  lay  like  a  mesh  of  silver  on 
the  ground.  The  moon  clear  and  liquid  rose  above 
the  trees. 

A  night  for  love — a  night  supreme — and  he  was 


The  Homecoming  283 

alone — alone  with  the  tormenting  vision  of  her.  He 
started  quickly  down  the  long  driveway — his  head 
flung  back — his  lips  grim.  .  .  . 

Late  that  night  he  returned  and  let  himself  in — 
all  was  still,  but  the  warm,  heavy  fragrance  of  flow- 
ers smote  him — he  reached  his  room.  His  valet  had 
laid  out  his  smoking  jacket — his  slippers — so  he  was 
to  be  a  bachelor — a  bachelor  with  the  one  woman 
beneath  his  roof  who  set  him  on  fire — he  must  be 
patient — that  was  it — patient — she'd  come  to  him 
and  when  she  did  .  .  .  That  time  would  be  well 
worth  waiting  for ! 

Bethel  was  thunderstruck  by  the  news.  At  first  it 
flatly  refused  to  believe  it.  What  else  would  they 
credit  that  Matthews  man  with  doing?  Marry  a 
Van  Steer !  Anyone  knew  it  was  ridiculous — going 
a  bit  too  far.  But  when  the  license  bureau  confirmed 
the  story — when  the  Reverend  Dr.  Thomas  ad- 
mitted having  tied  the  knot,  then  and  only  then,  did 
Bethel  sit  back — aghast — wondering  with  varying 
degrees  of  trepidation — what  Bill  Matthews  would 
tackle  next — what  else  was  there  left  for  him  to  do? 
Had  not  Daphne  refused.  Colt's  son — Cyrus  P. 
Colt's  only  heir — what  was  there  about  this  big  man 
from  Factory  Street  that  had  conquered  where  Phil 
had  failed? 

The  group  that  met  at  the  Golf  Club  talked  the 


284  The  Road  of  Ambition 

matter  over  eagerly  before  the  leaping  fire  in  the 
billiard  room — Pattison  was  there,  his  golf  bag  be- 
side him — and  Rosalie,  a  flash  of  triumph  in  her 
eyes. 

"Poor  Phil,"  she  grinned.  "Won't  it  be  a  knock- 
out for  him?" 

Pattison  shook  his  head.  "By  Jove !"  he  muttered, 
"It's  uncanny  the  way  Bill  sails  in  and  gets  things — 
only  the  other  day  I  laughed  at  the  idea  of  his  play- 
ing around  Daphne  and  now " 

"Well,  what'll  he  do  next?"  shouted  one  of  the 
men.  Pattison  looked  up. 

"That's  the  question.  What  will  he  do  next? 
He's  just  begun,  hasn't  he? — just  feeling  his  wings 
— if  he  doesn't  get  drunk  with  power — or  lose  his 
head — there's  no  telling  where  he  will  land  up." 

"Think  of  May  Larabee  when  she  reads  this," 
sighed  Rosalie,  her  chin  in  her  hand.  "I'd  give 
my  brand  new,  blue  satin,  go-to-meeting  dress  to  see 
her!" 

The  men  laughed,  but  deep  in  the  heart  of  each 
was  a  certain  resentment  toward  having  in  their 
midst  a  force — so  fearless  and  of  such  colossal  as- 
surance. Sometimes  power  was  destructive  as  well 
as  constructive — who  knew  in  what  direction  Bill's 
next  drive  might  lie.  They  were  not  sure  they  pre- 
cisely liked  associating  with  a  man  who  conquered 
life's  crushing  forces  so  magnificently — who  suc- 
ceeded in  spite  of  the  crushing  disadvantages  under 


The  Homecoming  285 

which  he  had  been  born.  They  had  read  of  such 
men — -these  sons  of  established  fortunes — their 
grandfathers  and  great-grandfathers  had  been  speci- 
mens of  this  type — but  it  was  a  different  matter  to 
find  one  in  their  very  midst — they  were  a  little  afraid 
of  him — a  little  uncomfortable  in  his  presence — and 
hang  it  all — they  didn't  want  to  feel  uncomfortable 
— it  was  not  a  part  of  their  pampered  existence  to 
bow  the  knee  to  anyone — granted  he  was  a  wizard 
— why  the  dickens  couldn't  he  have  been  a  remote 
one!  They  shook  their  heads  and  stared  into  the 
fire.  What  next? 

Colt  received  the  news  in  black  silence — Perkins 
read  it  to  him  with  averted  eyes  and  lowered  voice. 
It  was  his  custom  to  summarize  Bethel's  news  while 
Colt  smoked  his  after  breakfast  cigars.  Colt  made 
no  remark  beyond,  "What's  the  outlook  for  the 
British  loan?"  and  Perkins  withdrew.  When  he 
was  alone  Colt  picked  up  the  sheet  and  skimmed  the 
announcement,  then  he  dropped  his  lighted  cigar  and 
stared  with  half  shut  eyes  at  the  wall. 

So  he'd  done  it! — he'd  walked  off  with  the 
woman  who  had  rejected  his  son — he  had  made 
the  Colts  the  laughing  stock  of  Bethel — but  more 
than  that  he  had  saved  the  pride  of  the  Van  Steers 
— the  pride  that  Colt  had  planned  to  lay  low  in  the 
dirt — to  grind  beneath  his  heel.  Well,  there'd  be 
some  way  to  get  even — some  way — he  must  think — 


286  The  Road  of  Ambition 

think — how  to  pierce  this  man's  armor — his  damned 
impudence — his  tremendous  energy.  Colt  flung  him- 
self to  his  feet  and  paced.  He  had  said  this  man 
was  a  menace — but  they  had  not  listened  to  him — 
no,  instead,  they  deferred  to  his  judgment — accepted 
his  plans — hung  on  his  very  words  before  taking  ac- 
tion— this  man  was  a  giant — a  giant  who  had  the 
Big  Four  under  his  thumb — was  actually  forcing 
them  to  take  him  into  partnership.  It  was  inevitable 
— the  other  three  wanted  it — the  Board  of  Directors 
wanted  it — the  whole  town  of  Bethel  wanted  it ! 

Man  alive !  Were  they  mad !  Blind !  Hypnotized 
by  this  man  who  walked  rough  shod  over  the  difficul- 
ties that  crushed  other  men  on  the  way !  That  should 
by  right  have  crushed  him!  The  laborers  adored 
him — the  tradespeople  adored  him — the  very  hill- 
top aristocrats  adored  him.  Colt  clenched  his  fist — 
the  whole  town  of  Bethel  was  on  its  knees  to  him  be- 
cause he  had  renovated  a  street  of  slums — there 
must  be  an  end  to  his  increasing  power — his  growing 
following.  .  .  . 

And  now  he  had  won  this  woman — by  that  stroke 
he  had  settled  all  doubts  as  to  his  abilities — he  was 
no  longer  a  ruler  of  men — but  of  women  as  well — 
he  had  chosen  the  only  daughter  of  Bethel's  oldest 
family.  How  he  would  crow  over  his  conquest — 
how  proud  of  her  he  would  be !  Colt  knew  why  she 
had  done  it.  To  spite  him.  That  alone  had  driven 
her  into  this  man's  arms — she  would  soon  be  sick 


The  Homecoming  287 

of  the  bargain — and  when  she  was — if  Philip  could 
but  be  on  hand  .  .  . 

He  rang  for  Perkins. 

"Send  Mr.  Phil  here,"  he  ordered.  Philip's  valet 
returned  with  the  news  that  his  master  was  sleeping. 
He  did  not  meet  Colt's  eyes,  but  Colt  knew. 

"Drunk  again?"  he  snapped.  The  valet  cleared 
his  throat. 

"Oh,  no,  sir,  not  that — just  resting — he  came  in 
late." 

"Wake  him  up,"  thundered  his  father,  "and  send 
him  to  me." 

Philip  appeared  somewhat  later,  white  of  face 
and  dull  of  eye,  his  green  dressing  gown  flapping 
about  his  bare  ankles. 

"Well,  what  is  it  now  ?"  he  grumbled.  "Can't  you 
let  a  fellow  sleep?" 

His  father  regarded  him  coldly  and  concluded  he 
had  not  heard  the  news.  He  launched  the  blow. 
"That  Van  Steer  girl's  married." 

Phil  started.    "Married?    Who  said  so?" 

Colt  waved  his  hand  to  the  paper.  "There  it  is. 
She  married  Matthews — Bill  Matthews." 

Phil  flung  back  his  head  and  roared.  "Come  off, 
Dad,"  he  shouted.  "Who's  been  stringing  you?" 

For  answer,  Colt  thrust  the  sheets  between  his 
son's  hands.  Phil  glanced  at  them  and  the  smile  on 
his  face  suddenly  froze. 

At  length  he  looked  up. 


288          The  Road  of  Ambition 

"What  made  her  do  that?"  he  demanded  slowly. 

Colt  could  have  answered  that  it  was  another  evi- 
dence of  the  man's  strange  power;  instead,  he 
shrugged. 

Philip  dropped  the  sheet.  "I  don't  believe  it  I" 
he  cried.  "It's  a  lie — they  make  mistakes  some- 
times— they " 

"Believe  it  or  not — it's  true." 

Philip  turned  on  his  father  with  a  snarl.  "It's 
your  fault — yes,  it  is — he's  probably  pulled  her  out 
of  the  hole  you  got  her  into — I  told  you  to  keep  out 
of  it — I  told  you  you'd  queer  it." 

Colt  dropped  into  his  chair  and  crossed  his  knees. 

"Well,  it's  done  now  so  there's  no  use  growling 
about  it.  Why  don't  you  marry  Rosalie  and  show 
Daphne  you  don't  give  a  hang " 

"Show  her,"  cried  Phil.  "Do  you  suppose  she'd 
even  take  the  trouble  to  notice  who  I  married?" 

His  father  reflected.  "I  don't  believe  it  will  last," 
he  said,  watching  his  son  closely.  He  was  repaid. 
Phil's  face  suddenly  cleared. 

"What  makes  you  say  that?"  he  asked  in  a  voice 
he  tried  to  make  casual. 

"Why,"  said  Colt,  "I  figure  he  did  it  to  show 
Bethel  he  can  have  what  he  wants.  He'll  get  tired 
of  her.  She's  not  his  kind.  He  won't  know  how  to 
handle  her — she'll  get  on  her  uppers — then  there'll 
be  a  row.  He'll  go  in  for  politics  or  something  as 
soon  as  the  novelty  wears  off." 


The  Homecoming  289 

"That  would  leave  her  alone  a  good  bit,  wouldn't 
it?"  demanded  Phil,  suddenly. 

Colt  bit  off  the  end  of  a  cigar.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
striking  a  match.  "I  expect  it  would." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BILL  PLANS  A  TEST 

1T\  UGAN,  the  party  Boss,  chose  a  stick  from  his 
^*^  bag,  grinned  at  his  caddie  and  turned  to  his 
secretary,  Loomis,  who  followed  him  slowly  over  the 
links. 

"Pretty  drive,  wasn't  it?"  he  demanded.  Loomis 
nodded,  his  face  dark.  "I  tell  you,"  continued 
Dugan  with  unusual  loquacity,  "it  takes  a  strong  arm 
and  a  steady  eye  to  play  this  game — I've  told  ye 
countless  times,  Loomis,  that  it  will  be  the  makin' 
of  ye — come  now,  try  a  stroke." 

Loomis  shook  his  head.  "Foggarty'll  be  on  the 
wire  at  twelve.  It's  quarter  of  now." 

"Tush,"  grunted  Dugan,  frowning.  "It's  inter- 
ferin'  with  me  game,  he  is!  Didn't  you  tell  him  I 
was  busy?" 

"He  says  Gardner  isn't  strong  enough  to  run — 
after  that  graft  he  pulled  off  when  he  was  dis- 
trict attorney — he  says " 

"Is  that  what's  bothering  ye?"  inquired  Dugan. 
"Why  didn't  ye  say  so?" 

"If  Gardner  doesn't  go  up  on  the  ticket — who 
will — who  else  is  there?" 

290 


Bill  Plans  a  Test  291 

Dugan  winked.  "Sure,  an'  I've  got  a  little  sur- 
prise for  the  party." 

Loomis  whirled.    "A  black  horse  ?" 

Dugan  nodded.  "Yep.  Had  my  eye  on  him  for 
two  years — he's  a  great  little  proposition,  Loomis — 
a  great  little  proposition — I  picked  him  for  a  win- 
ner way  back — and  what  has  he  done  but  proved  it 
to  me  again  this  mornin'." 

"Who  is  it?    Dixon?" 

Dugan  shook  his  head.  "No,  somebody  that's  got 
seventy  thousand  votes  to  start  with — and  no  end  of 
money  to  go  on  with." 

"Is  he  in  the  game?"  asked  Loomis,  puzzled. 
Dugan  laughed. 

"He  is  not.  He's  like  a  babe  unborn  where 
politics  are  concerned,  but  we'll  educate  him,  Loomis, 
we'll  educate  him." 

"Who  is  it?"  demanded  Loomis,  bluntly.  "I 
ought  to  know." 

"In  time,"  said  Dugan,  nodding.  "Ye  shall." 
Then  as  though  dismissing  the  subject  he  remarked, 
lightly,  "Did  ye  read  in  the  mornin'  paper  that  Judge 
Van  Steer's  girl  had  married  Bill  Matthews?" 

Loomis  was  quick  to  understand. 

"Bill  Matthews,"  he  gasped.  "Bill  Matthews! 
Well,  I'll  be " 

"Come  on,"  cut  in  Dugan,  sharply,  "or  I'll  never 
finish  this  hole  before  lunch." 

The  Matthews  household  moved  on  oiled  wheels. 


292  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Mrs.  Kemble  managed  the  staff  with  a  degree  of  ef- 
ficiency amazing  in  so  small  and  amiable  a  body. 
Daphne,  in  accordance  with  Bill's  wish,  planned  a 
series  of  dinners  which  inaugurated  Bethel's  fall  sea- 
son. They  passed  off  quietly  and  the  guests  who 
came,  thrilled  with  the  prospect  of  seeing  a  cowed 
Daphne  or  a  brusque  Bill,  found  the  affairs  alto- 
gether commonplace  in  their  very  smoothness  and 
elegance. 

Daphne  was  a  charming  hostess — lovely — gra- 
cious— at  ease.  She  fitted  into  the  beauty  of  the  big 
house — like  a  jewel  in  its  setting.  As  for  Bill,  he 
was  the  same  great,  quiet  man  they  had  always 
known.  When  he  spoke  he  spoke  convincingly  and 
to  the  point,  but  he  preferred  to  listen  and  as  Pat- 
tison  put  it,  "Keep  his  eye  on  his  wife.  If  any  man 
ever  had  a  hobby,  she's  his !" 

No,  Bethel's  watchful  matrons  could  detect  no 
flaw  in  the  happiness  of  the  Matthews.  Daphne 
was  evidently  radiant — perhaps  she  had  married 
him  for  love  after  all.  Who  knew? 

But  beneath  her  sweetness,  her  consideration  for 
his  wishes,  her  yielding  to  his  slightest  command, 
Bill  felt  the  growing  certainty  that  she  would  never 
change.  That  she  tolerated  him  simply  because  she 
had  agreed  to — that  she  would  see  the  bargain 
through  as  long  as  he  kept  to  his  end  of  it,  but  that 
the  instant  he  crossed  the  line  drawn  by  her,  she 
would  leave  him. 


Bill  Plans  a  Test  293 

Never  since  the  night  of  her  arrival  had  he  lost 
his  grip  on  himself.  She  had  helped  him  by  sur- 
rounding herself  with  friends.  She  brought  them 
home  to  luncheons — to  dinners — she  was  sim- 
ply determined  to  keep  up  the  looks  of  the  thing — 
to  foil  Bethel  in  its  effort  to  scent  a  break — but  as 
he  became  more  and  more  absorbed  in  his  marine 
plans,  he  urged  her  to  go — and  at  length  she  went, 
but  never  without  his  consent  and  knowledge.  Oh, 
she  was  playing  the  game  squarely  enough — all  the 
cards  on  the  table — but  even  at  that  it  looked  as 
though  he  might  hold  a  losing  hand. 

He  loaded  her  with  gifts — the  things  women  of 
her  world  expected  as  their  tribute  and  she  accepted 
them  quietly  with  a  studied  thanks  which  had  to 
satisfy  him.  She  wore  the  splendid  jewels  he  gave 
her  dutifully.  He  was  increasingly  proud  of  her — 
filled  with  a  fierce  joy  when  men  whispered  to  him 
that  he  was  a  lucky  boy  and  women  sighed  in  his 
ear  that  they  could  not  expect  him  to  look  at  them 
with  such  a  wife ! 

He  wondered  at  times,  a  trifle  cynically,  what  they 
would  say  if  they  knew  that  she  was  a  stranger  to 
him — that  he  had  never  held  her  in  his  arms — never 
felt  the  glory  of  her  surrender.  True,  she  was  no 
longer  afraid  and  there  were  times  when  he  wished 
she  were — it  looked  so  much  as  though  her  active 
dislike  of  him  were  turning  to  passive  indifference — 
anything  but  that ! 


294  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  seldom  saw  her  until  dinner  and  then  often 
in  the  company  of  others.  Only  when  driving  home 
from  some  function — when  alone  with  her  in  their 
car — her  warm  presence  stirring  him — was  he  re- 
sentful and  shaken.  How  long?  he  would  mutter 
fiercely.  How  long? 

He  had  a  great  hold  on  himself  these  days.  He 
even  trusted  himself  with  tucking  the  robes  about 
her  knees,  with  adjusting  the  window,  which  neces- 
sitated his  leaning  close  to  her  and  inhaling  the  tan- 
talizing fragrance  of  her  hair.  How  long?  his  soul 
cried  out  in  torment. 

As  for  his  business — his  new  business  of  charter- 
ing ships — of  interesting  capital — of  issuing  stock — 
it  absorbed  every  minute  of  his  waking  hours.  The 
Bethel  Transatlantic  was  materializing — the  skep- 
tics were  completely  carried  away  by  his  boundless 
enthusiasm  and  eagerness — he  planned — he  figured 
— he  acted.  The  work  was  a  safety  valve  for  his 
emotions — he  gave  to  it  all  of  himself  unstintingly. 

He  and  Pattison  left  for  the  Great  Lakes,  in- 
spected the  boats — paid  down  their  ten  per  cent  de- 
posit and  took  an  additional  option  on  a  group  of 
river  barges.  They  chartered  a  fleet  of  wooden 
schooners — the  auxiliary  type  with  the  semi-Deisel 
engines — boats  that  could  make  nine  knots  an  hour. 
They  did  not  stop  there.  They  chartered  a  fifteen- 
hundred  ton  dead-weight  cargo  steamer — and  a  num- 
ber of  ore-collectors — prime  boats  for  their  purpose. 


Bill  Plans  a  Test  295 

It  was  about  that  time  that  Pattison  was  suddenly 
smitten  with  panic. 

"Look  here,"  he  cried.  "What  are  we  going  to 
do  about  a  pier?" 

Bill  grinned.  "I've  thought  of  that  already.  Got 
one  I  can  lease  from  the  European  Dock  Company. 
We'll  have  to  have  more  than  one — shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised if  we  have  another  at  Newport  News — maybe 
at  Baltimore  and  Boston  later — depends  on  how 
things  go." 

And  one  day,  flushed  with  triumph,  he  called  an 
informal  meeting  of  the  officers — and  laid  before 
them  the  crowning  effort  of  his  entire  scheme. 

"Do  you  remember,"  he  said  to  Pattison,  "my 
telling  you  the  proposition  would  be  a  great  one  pro- 
vided I  could  get  one  thing  I  was  after?" 

Pattison  nodded. 

Bill  smiled  at  him.    "Well,"  he  said,  "I've  got  it !" 

"Let's  hear  it,"  prompted  the  committee. 

"It's  just  this,"  Bill  told  them.  "Now  that  we 
have  our  own  boats  we  can  get  our  stuff  across  the 
water  without  any  trouble — no  delay  there — but  it's 
when  it  reaches  the  other  side  that  the  check  comes. 
Supplies  tied  up  for  months  waiting  a  chance  to 
dock." 

"Everyone's  up  against  that,  aren't  they?"  put  in 
Decker.  "It's  one  thing  you  can't  get  around." 

"You  can,"  Bill  flashed,  "and  what's  more  I  have. 
I  figured  that  what  we  needed  was  a  foreign  port  of 


296  The  Road  of  Ambition 

our  own — an  exclusive  port,  open  only  to  vessels 
flying  the  Bethel  Transatlantic  colors,  so  I  felt 
around,  and  after  a  time  opened  negotiations  with 
France."  He  paused. 

"Well?"  they  caught  him  up. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "It  looks  very  much  as 
though  she'd  consent." 

"Consent  to  closing  a  harbor  to  all  ships  but 
ours "  exploded  Decker.  "It  doesn't  seem  rea- 
sonable." 

"Wait  a  minute.  It's  provisional,  of  course.  In 
return  for  the  use  of  her  port,  we  are  to  agree  to 
develop  it — make  a  center  of  it — take  over  our  own 
engines  and  trains — lay  our  own  tracks — build  our 
own  buildings — make  a  city  of  it  in  short.  It'll  work 
both  ways.  The  people  over  there  buying  things 
from  us  will  be  guaranteed  delivery — they'll  turn  all 
their  orders  our  way  to  save  time." 

They  stared  at  him,  and  Decker — his  voice  tremb- 
ling a  trifle — leaned  forward.  "It  would  mean  that 
we  could  dictate  our  own  terms  to  any  other  com- 
pany desiring  to  use  our  port?" 

"Exactly,"  agreed  Bill.  "We'll  have  the  one  and 
only  direct  route  and  harbor  rights  in  the  world!" 

"Great!"  gasped  Pattison.    "That's  immense!" 

The  meeting  broke  up  late.  Pattison  lingered  to 
add  his  word  of  praise.  "It'll  make  a  world  power 
of  you,  Bill,"  he  said.  "Think  you  can  stand  it?" 


Bill  Plans  a  Test  297 

Bill  smiled.     "I'll  try." 

Pattison  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  know  how  you 
get  hold  of  such  schemes.  You  were  born  thinking 
great  things.  What  does  your  wife  say  to  it?  I'll 
have  to  ask  Daphne  how  it  feels  to  be  married  to  a 
genius." 

Then  as  Bill  did  not  answer,  Pattison  saw  in  a 
flash  the  truth,  and  cursing  his  stupidity,  plunged  on, 
"Or  maybe  you're  like  I  am — never  discuss  business 
after  hours.  Mrs.  Pattison  wouldn't  know  a  gilt- 
edge  security  from  a  hole  in  the  wall !" 

Bill  turned  his  head  away.  "I'm  glad  it  strikes 
you  O.  K.,"  said  he  abruptly. 

Pattison  nodded.  "Right  between  the  eyes — it's 
a  knock-out!" 

When  Bill  reached  home,  the  butler  informed  him 
that  Mrs.  Matthews  was  serving  tea  in  the  library. 
He  was  glad  she  was  at  home.  He  felt  all  at  once 
very  tired.  He  would  talk  to  her,  perhaps  he  would 
tell  her  a  very  little  of  his  plan — he  had  never  ven- 
tured to  before — he  had  always  felt  she  would  not 
care  to  hear — but  perhaps  she  might.  .  .  . 

He  parted  the  curtains  and  glanced  in.  Then  he 
dropped  them  with  a  quick  exclamation.  Leaning 
toward  her,  his  dark,  sleek  head  bent  close  to  hers, 
was  Philip  Colt.  .  .  . 

He  hesitated,  battling  with  the  sweep  of  emotion 
that  overwhelmed  him.  He  was  astonished  at  see- 


298  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ing  him  there — he  was  alarmed.  He  had  looked 
upon  this  man's  friendship  with  Daphne  as  a  closed 
chapter  of  her  life.  What  was  he  whispering  to 
her?  How  often  had  he  been  there  before?  He 
was  afraid  to  remain  alone  with  his  thoughts.  He 
was  afraid  to  enter.  He  did,  however,  and  greeted 
Phil,  cordially.  Daphne  made  room  for  him  beside 
her.  If  it  surprised  her  to  have  him  return  home 
early  she  made  no  comment. 

Phil  held  the  floor.  He  was  describing  a  race  he 
had  seen.  He  did  it  with  animation  and  charm. 
Bill  moved  uneasily.  Phil,  with  his  easy,  polished 
way,  made  him  feel  his  own  crudeness — no,  not 
crudeness,  but  his  size — his  comparative  awkward- 
ness— his  deliberateness  in  speech — Bill  had  never 
developed  any  degree  of  fluency  in  talking  with 
Daphne.  How  could  he? 

He  observed  her  closely.  She  seemed  glad  to  see 
Phil.  Not  flagrantly  glad,  but  deeply  contented  as 
one  is  to  welcome  back  an  old  friend. 

After  he  had  gone  Bill  determined  to  allude  to  it, 
but  could  not.  He  found  himself  tongue-tied — mute. 
He  was  not  sure  he  knew  what  it  was  he  wanted  to 
tell  her — certainly  not  that  he  objected  to  Phil — he 
had  given  her  free  rein  to  choose  her  own  friends — 
he  couldn't  retract  that ! 

And  as  he  struggled  silently  for  an  opening  wedge, 
she  left  him  with  a  word  about  dressing  for  dinner 
and  he  was  alone — the  tea  things  scattered  about 


Bill  Plans  a  Test  299 

him.  Two  empty  cups — Phil's  and  hers — two  plates 
of  half  eaten  cakes.  He  shook  himself  together  and 
called  himself  a  fool — didn't  he  trust  her?  Was 
he  afraid  of  a  man  like  Philip  Colt  taking  her  from 
him? — and  then  the  ugly  thought  crept  in,  in  spite  of 
him.  She  had  been  reported  engaged  to  Colt.  Why 
had  she  broken  it  off?  What  was  the  real  reason? 
Perhaps  she  still  cared  for  him.  .  .  .  He  sneered 
at  himself — jealous — well,  he  was  a  fool!  and  he 
strode  angrily  to  his  room. 

The  next  time  he  saw  them  together  was  in  Phil's 
racer.  It  was  from  a  window  of  the  Bethel  Steel 
Club.  He  was  to  meet  Pattison  there  for  lunch  and 
was  awaiting  him,  when  the  long,  red  car  shot  around 
the  corner  of  Dumont  Street  and  came  to  a  stop 
opposite  the  club.  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
occupants.  Daphne's  laughing  face  was  turned 
toward  him,  but  she  did  not  glance  up  at  the  club. 
Bill's  heart  contracted  suddenly — how  young  she 
looked — how  happy.  All  the  wealth  he  had  poured 
into  her  lap  could  not  make  her  smile  thus — could 
not  win  for  him  a  laugh  from  her  lips. 

That  night  at  dinner  she  explained  it.  Not  that 
he  asked  it  of  her,  but  rather  as  a  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. 

"I  was  walking  to  town  this  afternoon  and  Phil 
happened  along.  Wasn't  it  good  of  him  to  give  me 
a  lift?  It  is  such  a  long  mile !" 


3OO  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  made  no  comment  but  he  was  glad  she  had 
told  him — absurdly  glad.  At  least  she  was  hiding 
nothing — holding  nothing  back.  Then  in  the  same 
instant  he  was  blindly,  toweringly  furious — furious 
with  himself.  Why  in  thunder  didn't  he  tell  her  he 
objected! — tell  her  he  wouldn't  have  that  whelp 
around  I — tell  her  it  was  high  time  she  stopped 
trifling  and  became  his  wife  in  earnest!  He  didn't. 
Instead,  he  left  her  abruptly  to  a  group  of  friends 
who  had  arrived — and  locked  himself  in  his  study. 

He  was  in  a  savage  mood — a  mood  that  chafed  at 
restraint — a  mood  that  longed  for  the  days  when 
a  man  went  out  and  slew  a  poacher.  He  was  letting 
her  make  a  fool  of  him — he  was  letting  her  surround 
herself  with  a  bodyguard  of  friends  that  kept  him 
at  arm's  length — oh,  yes,  it  was  all  deliberate — all 
cunningly  planned.  Something  he  could  not  con- 
tend with — a  phase  of  higher  civilization  as  success- 
ful in  guarding  one's  person  as  the  thick  walls  and 
moats  of  old. 

If  she  wanted  Colt,  why  the  deuce  hadn't  she  taken 
him  when  she  had  the  chance?  Phil  was  courteous 
where  he  was  rough — thoughtful  where  he  was  heed- 
less— quiet  where  he  was  noisy Why  hadn't 

she  taken  him.  .  .  .  ! 

Perhaps  in  the  forced,  unnatural  life  one  lived, 
hedged  in  by  wealth,  that  was  the  sort  of  man  a 
woman  loved — that  weakling.  He  wondered,  with 
a  grim  laugh,  just  how  Colt  would  seem  once  he 


Bill  Plans  a  Test  301 

were  removed  from  the  environment  in  which  he 
had  been  born — once  he  came  face  to  face  with  na- 
ture— once  he  stood  the  test  of  the  survival  of  the 
fittest.  For  that  matter,  he  wondered  what  Daphne 
would  do,  snatched  from  the  shallow  frivolity  of  her 
daily  life.  By  Jove !  if  he  had  but  lived  in  the  days 
when  a  man  and  a  woman  met  simply — primitively 
— he  would  have  been  able  to  woo  her  as  woman  was 
never  wooed  before — to  win  her  by  sheer  strength 
— by  right  of  his  size  and  power.  If  only — suddenly 
he  leaped  to  his  feet.  "Well,"  he  cried,  "why  not?" 

He  became  action  electrified — his  heart  pounding, 
his  pulses  leaping — but  he  did  not  falter — what  if  he 
failed?  his  inner  voice  pleaded,  but  he  crushed  it 
ecstatically.  "I  won't— I  can't,"  he  shouted. 

He  called  his  secretary  to  the  phone.     "I'm  going 

to  Benson's  shack  in  the  hills — Davis,  yes He's 

been  wanting  me  to  use  it.  I'll  clean  up  everything 
I  can  before  I  go  and  take  what's  left  over  with  me. 
It'll  give  me  a  chance  to  map  out  some  plans.  Find 
out  if  the  place  is  in  good  shape  and  send  down  a 
camp  outfit — some  of  the  servants  to  cook.  Yes, 
horses,  of  course.  I  want  everything  to  be  tiptop 
so  I  can  leave  a  week  from  today,  understand?" 

He  rang  off  and  sat  staring  into  the  darkness — ex- 
ultantly— jubilantly.  At  last  he  had  done  something 
— something  definite  toward  winning  the  snow 
woman.  Colt  thought  to  gain  her  favor.  Well,  by 
Jiminy,  he'd  show  him  I 


302  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  waited  until  after  the  guests  had  gone,  then 
he  ran  down  and  met  Daphne  at  the  doorway.  He 
spoke  casually. 

"I've  just  had  word  I  must  leave  for  the  hills  in 
a  week — a  sudden  call — can  you  be  ready  to  go  with 
me  then?" 

For  a  second  her  eyes  held  his.  There  was  a  chal- 
lenge in  them — a  warm  defiance,  but  he  met  them 
coolly.  It  was  his  look  that  disarmed  her. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "If  you  wish  me  to  go  I  shall 
be  ready."  Then,  as  though  compelled,  she  asked, 
"Shall  we  be  away  long?" 

He  shrugged.  "That  depends,"  he  replied 
vaguely,  "that  greatly  depends " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   SHACK   IN   THE    HILLS 

1T\  APHNE  awoke  with  a  start.  Where  was  she? 
-*-^  She  sat  up  and  stared  about  her.  Then  she 
remembered.  Benson's  shack  in  the  hills !  It  was  a 
bare  little  room,  with  its  cot  and  bureau — its  chair 
and  table,  but  there  was  a  certain  fresh  cleanliness 
about  it  that  appealed  to  her;  the  rag  rug  on  the  floor 
— the  enlarged  snapshots  on  the  wall. 

The  chill  of  the  night  still  hung  in  the  air,  but 
through  the  open  window  a  rosy  haze  cut  the  dark- 
ness like  a  knife.  Daybreak.  She  turned  her  head, 
sniffing  the  sharp  sweetness  of  growing  things. 

They  had  arrived  the  night  before — very  late 
She  had  been  unutterably  tired — the  strain — that 
was  it — the  wondering  why  he  had  brought  her — 
what  he  meant  to  do.  She  had  not  questioned  him, 
but  she  dreaded  the  trip  and  yet  she  no  longer  feared 
him.  He  had  been  very  gentle  to  her — very  good. 

She  flung  on  her  clothes  and  slipped  her  arms  into 
a  heavy  sweater,  then  she  wound  her  hair  about  her 
head  and  drew  a  knitted  cap  over  it.  She  would 
move  about  softly  so  as  not  to  awaken  her  maid 
sleeping  in  the  next  room — she  would  go  out  and  see 
303 


304  The  Road  of  Ambition 

the  sunrise !  She  never  remembered  having  seen  a 
sunrise  in  all  her  life!  and  here  in  the  hills!  .  .  . 
She  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  exhilaration — of  freedom 
— it  was  good  to  be  away  from  the  wearying  round 
of  pleasures — from  the  constant  effort  to  entertain 
— to  be  far  up  on  the  side  of  a  mountain! 

She  opened  her  door  carefully  and  listened.  All 
was  still.  She  tiptoed  along  the  silent  hall,  into  the 
living  room.  The  fire,  which  upon  their  arrival  had 
been  leaping  in  the  great  stone  hearth,  was  a  heap 
of  gray  ashes.  Stretched  out  before  it  was  a  rangy 
pup — all  legs — answering  to  the  name  of  Scamp. 
He  stirred  lazily  and  wagged  his  tail  at  her.  She 
stroked  his  head  and  called  him  softly.  He  ambled 
out  after  her. 

The  sharp  air  challenged  her.  She  caught  her 
breath  and  looked  about  her.  To  the  east  a  ball  of 
fire  was  rolling  up — the  sky  was  aflame — the  maples 
— the  oak — the  poplars  catching  its  radiance  on  their 
upturned  leaves. 

The  laurels — the  rhododendrons — the  blueberry 
bushes  were  bowed  down  beneath  their  weight  of 
dew — it  glistened  on  every  leaf  like  a  perfect  dia- 
mond. 

To  the  west,  almost  melting  into  the  skyline, 
stretched  the  mountains — purple — hazy — shot  with 
pink  in  the  light  of  the  rising  Sun. 

She  had  never  seen  anything  so  beautiful!  She 
flung  back  her  head  and  breathed  deeply.  She 


The  Shack  in  the  Hills          305 

wanted  to  dance — to  sing — to  run.  The  dog  sniffing 
with  muddy  nose,  yapped  joyfully  at  an  imagined 
prey.  She  hushed  him  and  moved  along  the  path, 
then  turning,  regarded  the  cabin  itself.  It  was  built 
of  rough  logs — but  its  size  was  unusual.  It  sprawled 
out  like  a  bungalow — room  for  a  dozen  men — a 
shack  in  the  woods  that  was  meant  for  pleasure. 
She  smiled  to  herself.  What  a  glorious  place ! 

She  struck  off  on  a  narrow  trail,  thrusting  aside 
the  drenched  bushes,  whose  dew  drops  clung  to  her 
skirt.  Beneath  her  feet  the  ground  gave  softly. 
Suddenly  she  paused  beside  a  rock.  Far  below  her 
lay  a  valley — a  valley  of  homes — of  planted  fields — 
of  tiny  houses  and  barns.  She  seated  herself  on  the 
rock,  and  stared  down.  Little  spirals  of  smoke  rose 
from  the  house  chimneys — gray — misty — blending 
into  the  blueness  of  the  lightening  sky. 

They  were  simple  homes — homes  where  men  and 
women  lived  and  loved  and  toiled — a  community  of 
farmers.  She  found  the  white  church  somewhat  set 
apart  from  its  neighbors — and  the  little  school  house 
— a  square,  many-windowed  building,  whose  every 
pane  of  glass  flashed  red. 

A  smile  touched  her  lips  as  she  gazed.  Here  was 
life  reduced  to  its  simplest  form.  Here  were  rugged, 
stutdy  men  content  each  year  to  plow  the  fields  and 
gather  their  harvest — asking  of  life  only  fair 
weather  for  their  crops.  Here  were  calm-browed, 
firm-breasted  women  who  guided  the  home — year  in 


306          The  Road  of  Ambition 

and  year  out,  unmindful  of  aught  save  the  welfare  of 
their  men,  and  of  the  bare-legged,  tow-headed 
youngsters  tugging  at  their  skirts. 

She  stared  down  restlessly.  "Oh,"  she  whispered 
at  length,  "how  happy  they  should  be !" 

She  felt  suddenly  lonely  and  restless — she  wished 
she  were  back  in  Bethel's  whirl  where  she  had  no 
time  to  think — to  reflect.  She  had  taken  her 
step  and  the  past  was  behind  her.  The  man  who 
called  himself  her  husband  had  kept  his  end  of  the 
contract — she  had  kept  hers.  Why  had  he  uprooted 
her  and  brought  her  here? — set  her  down  amidst 
strange  surroundings  and  given  her  time  to  dream  I 

Someone  was  coming.  The  dog  beside  her 
bristled  and  growled.  She  rose  to  meet  the  stranger 
face  to  face,  then  the  quick  color  stung  her  cheeks, 
for  she  saw  it  was  Bill. 

"Hello,"  he  called.    "You're  up  early,  too." 

She  nodded.  He  did  not  seem  surprised  to  see 
her — had  he  been  following  her?  He  had  reached 
her  side  and  was  gazing  down  at  the  valley.  He 
seemed  absorbed  and  she  stole  a  glance  at  him. 

He  was  bareheaded,  his  brown  hair  rumpled  as 
though  he  had  run  his  fingers  through  it.  She  no- 
ticed that  the  sunlight  gave  it  a  glint  of  gold.  He 
seemed  to  belong  to  the  rugged  beauty  of  the  scene 
— this  big  man  with  his  square  jaw — his  fine,  mobile 
lips — his  straight,  large-nostriled  nose — his  steady, 
grey  eyes.  Yes,  he  belonged  there. 


The  Shack  in  the  Hills          307 

He  was  patting  the  dog,  who  nosed  him  affection- 
ately. 

"Old  rascal.  So  you  waited  for  the  lady,  instead 
of  coming  out  with  me !" 

"Oh,"  said  she.     "You  were  up  before  I?" 

He  nodded.  "Yes,  it  was  still  dark — I  wondered 
if  you  could  sleep  when  all  this  was  happening.  Then 
I  saw  you  come  out  and  I  knew  the  magic  of  it  had 
called  you,  too." 

"It's  a  beautiful  sight,"  she  said  quickly  to  hide 
her  surprise.  "But  I  believe  I'm  hungry." 

"So  am  I,"  he  agreed.  "Let's  rouse  the  cook  and 
rustle  some  coffee  and  bacon  and  cakes " 

"With  maple  syrup!"  she  interrupted  eagerly, 
then  remembered  herself.  "You  go  along  and  tell 
them  what  we  want.  I'll  wait  here." 

What  was  the  matter  with  her? — she  asked  her- 
self angrily — why  should  she  want  to  romp  and  play 
with  this  big  man  beside  her? — to  laugh  and  sing — 
was  it  the  morning  enchantment? — was  it  the  joy  of 
dropping  the  fetters  of  civilization? 

"All  right,"  he  shouted,  half  way  down  the  path. 
"I'll  call  you  when  it's  ready." 

She  dropped  back  on  the  rock  and  stared  once 
more  at  the  valley.  How  big  he  looked  with  his 
shoulders  flung  back — how  boyish.  It  was  not  right 
to  bring  such  a  man  into  the  cramped  space  of  cities 
— he  belonged  outdoors,  just  as  the  oaks  and  pop- 
lars and  pines  did — yes,  he  was  built  like  them,  too 


308  The  Road  of  Ambition 

— sturdy  and  straight  and  tall.  Then  she  recalled 
herself  sharply.  What  had  come  over  her?  She 
switched  her  train  of  thought  deliberately — almost 
petulantly — she  was  glad  when  he  hallooed  to  her 
that  breakfast  was  ready — what  she  needed,  she  told 
herself,  was  something  to  eat — that  would  knock  the 
nonsense  out  of  her. 

During  the  week  that  followed  she  was  much 
alone.  Bill  set  out  early  each  day  on  horseback  for 
parts  unknown  and  did  not  return  until  late.  She 
asked  no  questions  because  it  was  part  of  her  code 
to  show  no  interest  in  his  coming  or  going,  but  with 
nothing  to  do  all  day — with  all  her  playthings  and 
baubles  torn  from  her — with  long  hours  of  enforced 
idleness  and  solitude — her  thoughts  followed  him  re- 
sentfully. What  right  had  he  to  go  off  and  leave  her 
without  a  word !  He  might  at  least  have  inquired  if 
she  cared  to  go  along.  Did  he  expect  her  to  stay 
there  indefinitely  twirling  her  thumbs? 

True,  she  tramped  through  the  woods  with  Scamp 
at  her  side,  or  rode  the  little  gray  mare  he  had 
bought  for  her — but  the  vague  uneasiness — the  rest- 
lessness which  began  with  his  departure  in  the  morn- 
ing was  not  allayed  until  his  return  at  night  alarmed 
her.  She  told  herself  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  him 
— it  was  simply  that  she  had  become  accustomed  to 
him — that  she  felt  he  should  amuse  her.  He  did 
not.  He  left  her  more  and  more  alone  and  at  length 
she  spoke. 


The  Shack  in  the  Hills          309 

They  had  finished  supper  and  were  seated  before 
a  roaring  fire  in  the  living  room.  It  was  a  big  room 
— in  deep  reds — its  couch  piled  with  pillows  and 
spread  with  a  Navajo  blanket — its  walls  hung  with 
crossed  snowshoes — with  old  pistols  in  their  holsters 
— with  antlers. 

The  dog,  Daphne  jealously  noted,  nosed  his  muz- 
zle into  Bill's  hand.  That  was  like  a  dog — to  give 
her  his  full  allegiance  during  the  day,  and  at  the 
master's  return,  desert  her  flat.  Bill  had  dropped 
on  the  rug  before  the  fire,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth. 
She  was  curled  up  in  a  deep  armchair. 

The  fire  cracked  cheerily — spitting  bright  sparks 
— the  puppy  growled  good-naturedly  as  Bill  rolled 
him  over.  The  very  warm  coziness  of  it  all  irritated 
her — she  wanted  to  run  away — do  anything  rather 
than  sit  there  with  that  man  who  seemed  scarcely 
aware  of  her  presence. 

"How  long  before  we  can  go  home?"  she  flung  at 
him.  He  looked  up  sharply. 

"Why?     Don't  you  like  it  here?" 

"Like  it?"  she  cried,  "of  course  I  don't  like  it! 
I'm  alone  all  day  with  nothing  to  do — I  have  never 
been  alone  in  my  life — I'm — I'm  sick  of  it!" 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  see  my  way  clear  to 
leaving  just  yet,"  he  began.  Then  he  smiled. 

"Look  here,  I  had  a  surprise  for  you — I  wasn't 
going  to  tell  you  but  if  it'll  make  you  any  happier, 
why "  He  stopped  and  gazed  into  the  fire — 


310  The  Road  of  Ambition 

he  seemed  almost  to  have  forgotten  what  he  had 
begun  to  say — she  tapped  her  foot  impatiently  and 
he  turned. 

"You  see,  I  figured  I'd  have  to  be  away  a  good  bit 
during  the  next  few  days — and  I  gathered  you 
weren't  altogether  satisfied,  so  I  invited  Phil  Colt 
up  here." 

She  stared  at  him.  "You  invited  Phil  Colt?  ..." 
He  nodded.  "Yes,  I  knew  you  were  old  friends 
and  his  having  nothing  in  the  way  of  business  to 
keep  him  from  accepting  decided  me.  It  didn't  seem 
right  to  leave  you  alone  so  much  and  he's  good  com- 
pany." 

Still  she  stared  at  him — a  flash  of  fear  in  her 
heart.  Why  had  he  done  this  thing?  Why  had  he 
wired  Phil — of  all  people?  What  was  he  planning? 
What  did  he  hope  to  accomplish  by  such  a  course? 
She  could  not  see  his  face,  it  was  turned  toward  the 
fire.  She  spoke  swiftly. 

"Oh,  you  shouldn't  have  done  that!" 
"Why  not?"  he  asked,  "don't  you  want  him?" 
She  did  not  answer.     What  could  she  say?     She 
did  want  him.    She  wanted  anyone  who  would  fill  her 
days — her  thoughts — who  would  make  her  forget 
when  her  husband  left  her  in  the  morning  and  when 
he  returned  at  night. 

Bill  was  speaking.  "I  can  easily  wire  him  in  the 
morning  that  it's  all  off.  I  never  thought  of  asking 
you — I  happened  to  be  at  the  station  in  the  valley 


The  Shack  in  the  Hills          311 

telegraphing  Pattison — and  it  suddenly  struck  me 
that  I'd  have  so  much  to  do  for  the  next  week  or  so 
— that  it  would  make  it  hard  for  you — so  I  sent  him 
word — but  if  you  don't  want  him " 

She  tried  to  fathom  his  meaning — to  read  between 
the  lines — but  she  could  not.  It  was  like  Bill  to  do 
something  of  the  sort.  After  all,  why  not?  Phil 
was  a  great  comrade — now  that  he  knew  his  place. 
They  would  walk  and  talk  and  read  together — he  at 
least  spoke  her  language — was  of  her  world — she 
leaned  back. 

"As  long  as  you've  sent  for  him,  he  might  as  well 
come,"  was  all  she  said.  He  did  not  reply.  She  was 
glad  he  was  silent,  and  then  with  sudden  perverse- 
ness  she  wished  he  would  speak — she  moved  uneas- 
ily— after  aM,  just  what  was  he  thinking — planning? 
Business,  no  doubt — business — that  was  all  he  lived 
and  breathed  for — a  mysterious  realm  which  inter- 
ested her  not  a  bit — she  was  glad  it  absorbed  him — 
and  yet  on  that  first  morning  it  had  almost  seemed 
as  though  he  might  prove  a  comrade — a  playmate. 
Impatient  with  herself,  she  rose. 

"I'm  turning  in,"  she  called  over  her  shoulder. 
He  glanced  up. 

"So  soon?    Well,  good  night." 

She  left  him,  half  glad  to  get  away,  but  before 
she  blew  out  her  lamp  she  stole  back  for  a  glance  into 
the  living  room.  He  was  still  there  before  the  fire. 
In  the  dim  light  she  could  see  the  puppy — an  inde- 


312  The  Road  of  Ambition 

terminate  ball,  huddled  close  to  his  side — she  could 
see  the  black  smoke  curling  from  his  pipe — she  could 
see  his  fine  head  and  shoulders  silhouetted  against 
the  dying  flames.  She  drew  back  and  closed  her  door 
softly.  She  was  glad  Phil  was  coming — very  glad — 
it  would  give  her  something  else  to  think  about. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

PHILIP    COLT  ARRIVES 

P>HIL  received  the  summons  with  a  joy  bordering 
•*•  unto  triumph.  So  she  had  sent  for  him.  She 
had  made  Bill  wire  him.  She  was  sick  of  the  farce 
already  and  eager  for  the  people  she  had  known — 
grown  up  with. 

He  wired  his  acceptance  and  called  his  father  on 
the  private  wire  direct  to  his  rooms. 

"I'm  leaving  for  the  hills,"  he  announced.  Colt, 
senior,  hid  any  surprise  he  may  have  felt  with  a 
grunt.  "Going  up  to  Benson's  place.  Daphne's 
there." 

His  father  interrupted,  "What  for?" 

"She  sent  for  me.  Made  her  husband  telegraph 
me  to  come.  What  do  you  know  about  that?" 

"Humph!"  grunted  Colt,  "I  figured  she'd  be  sick 
of  him  by  this  time."  Then  he  added  a  word  of 
warning.  "Go  slow.  No  scandal.  Understand?" 

"Sure,"  grinned  Phil.     "Isn't  it  immense?" 

Bill  met  him  at  the  station  with  an  old  buckboard. 
Phil  was  rather  taken  aback.  Somehow  he  had  ex- 
pected Daphne  to  be  there,  but  Bill  greeted  him 
warmly. 

313 


314  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"I  wouldn't  let  her  come  down,"  he  explained. 
"It's  such  a  long  drive  from  the  top  to  the  valley. 
Jump  in,  we've  a  good  ways  to  go." 

Phil  obeyed.  He  wondered  what  the  dickens  he 
could  talk  about  to  this  man — what  possible  subject 
to  pursue,  but  Bill  relieved  him  of  the  burden  of  con- 
versation by  plunging  into  a  description  of  some 
scheme  for  improving  dynamos  at  the  Works.  Phil 
had  no  opportunity  for  speech. 

"Just  rotten  with  business,"  was  his  mental  ver- 
dict. "No  wonder  Daphne  wants  me  if  she  has  to 
listen  to  this  sort  of  thing  all  day!" 

It  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  shack.  Its 
lights  gleamed  warmly  through  the  dusk — Phil 
stared  about  him  curiously. 

"You  certainly  are  far  enough  from  mankind," 
said  he. 

Bill  nodded.    "I  think  so." 

Daphne  met  them  at  the  door.  To  Phil's  quick 
gaze  she  appeared  unusually  well  and  happy — the 
faint  lines  of  weariness — the  pallor — the  droop  to 
her  shoulders  that  he  had  noticed  in  Bethel  seemed 
to  have  vanished.  She  greeted  him  with  out- 
stretched hand. 

"Welcome  to  the  house  in  the  woods!"  she  cried. 
He  leaped  out.  The  servants  relieved  him  of  his 
bag — he  caught  her  hand  in  a  hard  grip. 

"This  is  back  to  nature  for  fair,"  he  said,  trying 
to  keep  his  voice  casual. 


Philip  Colt  Arrives  315 

"Wait  until  you've  tasted  Brenda's  cooking,"  she 
laughed,  "and  you'll  think  that  you're  dining  at  the 
club !" 

He  followed  her  in.  The  warmth  and  color  of  the 
room  stirred  him.  By  Jove!  What  a  spot  for  a 
man  and  woman — what  a  garden  of  Eden! — the 
sort  of  place  you  read  about  in  books,  but  rarely 
found  on  earth.  He  hid  his  emotion  with  a  laugh. 
"Do  you  dress  for  dinner?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "We're  barbarians  here. 
Put  on  old  clothes  in  the  morning  and  take  them 
off  at  night.  Hurry  now — everything's  ready — you 
must  be  half-starved." 

They  sat  down  to  an  excellent  meal — served  by 
the  efficient  Jenks.  A  meal  which,  as  Daphne  said, 
might  have  graced  the  club  table.  Phil's  spirits  rose 
in  leaps  and  bounds — the  novelty  of  it  all — a  dinner 
fit  for  a  king — in  a  low-ceilinged  room — a  room  of 
rough  boards — its  very  chairs  made  of  native  wood 
— the  glimpse  of  black  woods  without  and  within  the 
silverware — the  candles  and  the  best  of  all  the  host- 
ess— in  a  gown  of  turquoise  blue — which  made  her 
look  even  more  ethereally  lovely  than  ever — like  a 
queen,  her  very  hair  bound  in  coronet  braids  about 
her  head — yes,  it  was  strangely  stirring.  .  .  . 

He  had  never  seen  her  so  brimming  over  with  life 
— she  answered  his  gay  banter  eagerly — he  won- 
dered what  had  wrought  the  change  in  her.  He  con- 
cluded that  the  light  in  her  eyes — the  color  of  her 


316  The  Road  of  Ambition 

cheeks  was  due  to  the  enforced  rest — but  the  buoy- 
ancy— the  sparkle  he  attributed  to  his  presence. 

Bill  spoke  but  little  during  dinner.  Surly,  Phil 
decided.  Engrossed  in  his  own  affairs.  No  wonder 
Daphne  unfolded  like  a  flower  before  his  attentions. 
Bill,  in  his  selfishness,  was  no  doubt  unendurable — 
it  was  possible  he  did  not  even  scent  the  inevitability 
of  a  break — these  fellows  who  were  all  for  business 
never  could  understand  a  woman — too  busy  figuring 
their  profit  and  loss. 

After  dinner  Daphne  led  the  way  to  the  living 
room.  Bill  lounged  in  a  corner,  drawn  occasionally 
into  the  conversation — but  he  seemed  to  prefer  to 
remain  silent.  Daphne  dropped  on  a  couch  beside 
Phil — questioning  him  about  friends  in  Bethel.  He 
watched  her  closely.  By  Jove !  how  could  she  keep 
so  fit — so  beautiful. 

He  was  glad  when  Bill  left  them — with  palpable 
excuses — there  were  some  papers  to  run  over — some- 
thing Pattison  wanted  at  once — business  was  a 
nuisance  in  the  woods — but  what  could  one  do? 

After  he  had  gone,  Daphne's  spirits  rose  precipi- 
tously. It  seemed  to  Phil  almost  as  though  she  were 
defiant — as  though  she  were  deliberately  flinging  her 
charms  at  him.  Had  she  been  in  love  with  her  hus- 
band, he  would  have  attributed  it  to  pique — in  this 
instance  he  was  convinced  it  was  simply  her  uncon- 
scious relief  at  having  Bill  out  of  the  way.  Phil  re- 
sponded to  her  mood. 


Philip  Colt  Arrives  317 

"By  George!"  he  cried,  "you're  wonderful, 
Daphne — you're  stunning!  How  do  you  do  it?" 

She  flashed  a  smile  at  him.  "Early  to  bed  and 
early  to  rise " 

He  shook  his  head.  "I've  never  seen  you  look  so 
fit.  You're  not  going  to  hurry  back,  are  you?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  minute,  then  she 
frowned.  "I  did  think  I  wanted  to — until " 

"Until ?"  he  prompted. 

"Until  you  came,"  she  finished.  "Bill  is  so  busy. 
I  find  it  rather  hard  to  know  what  to  do  with  myself 
all  day." 

"Do  you  mean  that  he  goes  off  and  leaves  you  in 
this  wilderness?" 

She  laughed  a  little.  "Oh,  it  isn't  quite  as  bad  as 
all  that.  The  servants  are  here  if  I  want  anything, 
and  I  do  love  the  freedom  of  it.  In  fact,  I  was  sure 
I'd  love  it  at  first.  Think  of  being  at  liberty  to  do 
exactly  as  you  choose  for  the  first  time  in  your  life ! 
But  I  soon  found  I  didn't  want  so  much  time  on  my 
hands — it  isn't  good  for  anyone,  is  it?  Least  of  all 
for  me !  I  simply  mustn't  have  long  hours  in  which 
to  think!" 

Phil's  face  flushed — he  had  come  at  just  the  right 
time — bored  to  death  with  her  husband — sick  of  her 
own  company — there  was  a  new  Daphne — a  thou- 
sand times  more  alluring ! 

"I'm  mighty  glad  you  sent  for  me,"  he  began. 

"Oh,  but  I  didn't." 


318  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"You  didn't?" 

"No,  Bill  did  that  all  himself — without  a  word  to 
me  until  afterwards — I  think  he  saw  I  wasn't  alto- 
gether happy." 

"That's  queer !  How  did  he  happen  to  pick  me 
out?" 

"I  don't  know,  unless  it  was  that  he  had  heard  me 
speak  of  you  quite  often." 

Phil  smiled — so  she  had  spoken  of  him.  "Well," 
he  said,  with  a  new  note  in  his  voice,  "I  don't  care 
how  I  got  here  so  long  as  I  did."  She  did  not  reply. 

He  continued,  "I  suppose  he's  so  blamed  anxious 
to  plug  at  his  work  that  he's  glad  to  get  you  off  his 
hands!" 

She  spoke  slowly.    "I  suppose  he  is." 

Phil  grinned.  "Oh !  what  a  fool  he  is,  giving  his 
love  to  iron  and  steel  when  he  can  give  it  to  flesh 
and  blood  instead — he  doesn't  look  like  a  man 
who's  a  machine  either — that's  the  queer  part  of  it — 
but  did  you  know,  Daphne,  that's  exactly  what  he  is 
— a  machine!" 

She  flushed.  "You're  wrong  there.  He's  not. 
He's  fine  in  countless  ways — yes  he  is — look  at  all 
he  has  done  for  Bethel's  poor — no  machine  could 
have  done  that!  He  raised  their  wages  and  built 
them  real  homes — he  worked  night  and  day  over 
them — no,  he's  not  a  machine — I  know,  be- 
cause  " 

She   stopped  with   flaming   cheeks.      What   had 


Philip  Colt  Arrives  319 

prompted  her  to  leap  to  this  man's  defense !  What 
madness  made  her  sing  his  praises  to  Philip  Colt! 
These  things  about  Bill  she  had  never  even  admitted 
to  herself.  Had  she  been  thinking  them  all  the 
while,  that  they  tripped  off  the  tip  of  her  tongue  so 
fluently! 

But  Phil  was  smiling.  Gad!  Daphne  was  true 
blue !  No  gainsaying  that!  Married  to  a  man  who 
was  a  boor — a  man  who  ignored  her — who  in  his 
anxiety  to  rid  himself  of  her  presence  summoned  an 
old  lover  to  her  side! — married  to  a  selfish  fool! 
Yet  she  defended  him — too  proud  to  let  even  her 
best  friends  know  how  she  loathed  him ! 

"I  understand,"  he  said.     "I  understand  1" 

She  had  risen.  "It's  getting  late,  Phil — and  you 
must  be  tired."  He  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  saw 
through  her — she  was  putting  him  off — she  simply 
didn't  feel  up  to  defending  her  husband  again.  He 
rose  to  the  occasion. 

"All  that  see-the-sunrise  stuff  again — do  you  mean 
it?" 

She  studied  him,  smiling.  "No,  of  course  not, 
Phil.  You  get  up  just  whenever  you  like — there  are 
no  rules  here." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  "It's  going  to  be  wonder- 
ful," he  told  her.  "I'm  glad  you  let  me  come." 

She  passed  slowly  along  the  hall  to  her  own  room. 
Her  maid  hurried  to  help  her — but  she  waved  her 


320  The  Road  of  Ambition 

away.  When  she  had  gone,  Daphne  loosened  her 
hair  and  it  rippled  in  a  golden  shower  to  her  waist. 
She  slipped  off  the  dress  she  wore  and  drew  on 
a  soft  gown.  Then  she  settled  herself  in  a  chair 
by  the  table  and  resolutely  studied  the  magazines  be- 
fore her — re-read  a  group  of  letters  from  friends  in 
Bethel — and  when  at  length  she  found  she  could  no 
longer  fight  against  the  memory  of  things  she  wished 
to  forget,  or  shut  out  the  turbulent  thoughts  clam- 
oring for  utterance — she  flung  aside  the  paper  with 
an  exclamation  of  impatience  and  switched  off  the 
light. 

She  moved  to  the  window.  She  pressed  her  cheek 
against  the  pane — then  not  content,  she  flung  it  up, 
closing  her  eyes  to  the  rush  of  cool  air — to  the  poig- 
nant sweetness  of  the  laurel — to  the  night  fragrance 
of  the  ferns.  Blackness — stillness — and  above  the 
treetops  the  sharp  twinkle  of  stars  in  a  frosty  sky. 
She  stared  out,  shivering  a  little,  she  drew  her  hair 
about  her  shoulders  like  a  cloak — a  cloak  of 
gold. 

She  did  not  know  when  she  first  became  aware 
of  someone  watching  her — a  shadow  darker  than 
the  rest  seemed  to  detach  itself  from  the  group 
close  to  her  window.  She  felt  her  heart  beat  swiftly 
at  the  sudden  consciousness  of  eyes  upon  her.  Who 
was  out  there  alone — beneath  her  window,  staring? 
She  leaned  forward  a  trifle — trying  to  pierce  the 
darkness — still  there  was  no  sound  save  the  hum  of 


Philip  Colt  Arrives  321 

insects  and  the  wind's  voice  in  the  trees.  She  caught 
her  breath  and  spoke  softly,  "Who's  there?" 

She  heard  the  rustle  of  leaves  beneath  a  foot  and 
the  sudden  scratch  of  a  match.  "It's  Bill.  Did  I 
frighten  you?"  He  held  the  flame  to  his  face  that 
she  might  see.  She  did  not  reply,  but  leaned  against 
the  window,  her  hand  on  her  heart.  He  had  come 
close.  She  saw  that  Scamp  was  beside  him,  snapping 
at  his  heels.  "I'm  afraid  I  gave  you  a  turn.  I 
didn't  mean  to.  I  came  out  here  for  a  smoke  before 
my  stroll." 

"Your  stroll?"  she  heard  herself  saying  in  a  voice 
unlike  her  own.  "Where  are  you  going?" 

She  could  see  his  face  indistinctly — a  white  blur 
beneath  her — all  save  his  eyes,  they  were  dark — lum- 
inous. He  laughed  softly. 

"Anywheres — under  the  stars  to  the  top  of  the 
hill — or  straight  down  to  the  old  creek  that  runs 
by  the  fork — Scamp  leads  the  way — I  follow — want 
to  come  along?" 

She  drew  back.     "Do  you  go — every  night?" 

"Yes.  It's  great  before  bed  to  fill  your  lungs  with 
God's  fresh  air.  Somehow  things  look  different — 
don't  you  think  so  ? — the  sky  seems  nearer — and  the 
trees  old  friends  you've  known  forever.  Sometimes 
we  light  a  fire  and  sit  close  to  it — sometimes  we  take 
a  run  across  a  plateau — doesn't  much  matter — what- 
ever Scamp  wants  to  do — eh,  old  boy?" 

She  did  not  speak,  and  he  moved  away.     "Well, 


322  The  Road  of  Ambition 

since  the  lady  won't  join  us,  we're  off."  He  waved 
his  hand  to  her — and  then  the  darkness  swallowed 
him  as  completely  as  though  by  the  wave  of  a  wand. 
Still  she  did  not  move.  She  was  fighting  with  all 
her  strength  against  the  desire  surging  up  in  her — 
the  overwhelming — sweeping  desire  to  go  with  him 
— to  feel  the  closeness  of  the  sky — the  friendship  of 
the  trees — to  sit  in  a  fire's  glow — to  race  across  a 
field.  She  was  mad!  mad!  she  had  married  this 
man  because  her  father  wanted  her  to — she  had 
done  it  knowing  she  would  never  care  for  him — 
never  so  long  as  they  lived — and  yet  she  permitted 
herself  to  think  such  thoughts — feel  such  desires — 
why? 

She  turned  on  her  light  angrily.  She  dragged  her 
reading  lamp  close  to  the  bed.  She  opened  a  book 
at  random  and  read  fiercely — aggressively — until 
her  eyelids  drooped  and  the  page  became  a  blur. 

Then  she  switched  off  the  light  and  lay  staring  up 
at  the  darkness.  She  would  show  Phil  the  valley  in 
the  morning — she  would  show  him  the  North  Fork 
— she  would  show  him — and  resolutely  she  shut  her 
eyes,  but  sleep  was  long  in  coming.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

A    PARTING   OF   THE   WAYS 

TN  the  days  that  followed  Daphne  flung  herself  into 
•*•  the  task  of  entertaining  Phil.  She  planned  the 
walks,  the  rides  together — and  even  as  she  arranged 
each  hour  of  the  day  so  that  he  would  be  at  her  side 
constantly,  she  was  fighting  the  growing  evidence  of 
his  devotion. 

She  argued  with  herself  stubbornly.  Since  Bill 
had  seen  fit  to  throw  them  together — since  his  busi- 
ness was  such  that  it  excluded  all  thought  of  her — 
she  would  amuse  herself  with  this  toy  he  had  put  in 
her  hands — and  the  consequences  be  on  his 
head.  .  .  . 

At  the  same  time  she  knew  she  was  playing  a 
dangerous  game — a  game  of  fire — a  game  that  re- 
quired all  her  skill  to  stem  the  rising  passion.  There 
were  times  when  she  resented  the  position  in  which 
Bill  had  placed  her — she  was  not  sure  she  wanted  to 
play  with  Phil  at  all — she  was  not  sure  of  anything, 
that  was  the  worst  of  it,  except  that  it  was  better  to 
have  Phil  there  to  occupy  her  time  than  to  be  alone. 

There  were  moments  when  she  felt  impelled  to  tell 
him  she  hated  her  husband — regretted  her  marriage 
323 


324  The  Road  of  Ambition 

— and  her  pride  alone  did  not  stop  the  torrent  of 
words — but  rather  an  innate  honesty.  Did  she  hate 
him?  Did  she  regret?  She  was  in  a  whirl  of  doubts, 
she  questioned  every  impulse  of  her  own — and  found 
no  answer. 

And  all  the  while,  Phil's  attentions  were  becoming 
more  marked.  His  hands  trembled  when  they 
chanced  to  touch  hers — his  cheeks  flushed.  She 
wished  to  heaven  she  could  send  him  away — she 
thanked  goodness  he  was  there.  Her  nights  were  a 
torture.  It  was  only  toward  daybreak  that  she  fell 
into  troubled  sleep. 

They  rode  each  morning,  but  she  no  longer  chose 
the  wild  paths  through  the  trees.  She  clung  to  the 
broad  trails,  where  they  were  in  plain  view.  She  told 
herself  she  was  not  afraid  of  Phil — if  not,  why  did 
she  do  this? 

She  had  spent  a  night  beside  her  window  and  the 
morning  found  her  drawn  and  irritable.  Her  maid 
announced  that  the  horses  were  at  the  door,  and 
Daphne  gazed  at  her  face  in  the  mirror.  There 
were  dark  shadows  under  her  eyes.  She  had  looked 
well  enough  before  Phil  came — she  had  been  fairly 
content — not  disturbed  by  this  gnawing  uncertainty. 
She  blamed  Bill.  Why  hadn't  he  left  things  alone? 

She  drew  on  her  coat  and  gloves  and  picked  up  her 
crop.  She  never  wore  a  hat  when  she  rode.  With 
her  hair  down  her  back  in  a  thick  braid,  she  looked 
like  a  child — a  slim,  boyish  youngster. 


A  Parting  of  the  Ways          325 

Phil  was  examining  the  girths.  Daphne  nodded 
to  him.  His  face  lighted  up  at  the  sight  of  her — 
a  slow  flush  crept  up  from  beneath  his  collar. 

"Shall  we  ride  to  Baldwin's  Creek?"  she  called,  as 
she  sprang  unassisted  to  the  saddle.  He  shook  his 
head. 

"We've  been  there  almost  every  day.  Why  not 
cut  through  the  trees  to  that  little  knoll?" 

"I  don't  know  the  way  very  well,"  she  evaded. 
"Let's  make  it  the  creek  and  back  by  luncheon." 

But  he  persisted.  "It's  just  as  short  to  the  knoll — 
I  remember  the  path — come  on,  just  this  once." 
Suddenly  he  grinned,  "What's  the  matter,  are  you 
afraid?" 

She  looked  up  quickly.  "Afraid?  Why  should  I 
be?" 

He  shrugged.    "I  dare  you !" 

She  accepted  the  challenge.  After  all,  why  not? 
If  her  husband  did  not  care  where  she  went  with  this 
man,  why  should  she?  She  touched  the  horse  lightly 
with  the  spur  and  they  were  off. 

"Good  girl!"  he  shouted.  "Always  takes  a 
dare!" 

They  thundered  across  a  little  bridge  and  down  a 
brown  strip  of  road — sending  a  pair  of  rabbits  frisk- 
ing in  alarm  across  their  path. 

"Here's  where  we  turn  off!"  cried  Phil,  and 
Daphne  swung  her  horse  with  the  twist  of  her  wrist 
from  the  beaten  track  into  the  woods. 


326  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Phil's  horse  plunged  after  her,  then  as  the  under- 
brush became  thicker,  they  drew  rein — panting — 
cheeks  flushed — eyes  shining  from  the  exercise. 

"Your  little  mare  can  certainly  set  the  pace," 
laughed  Phil.  "Leave  it  to  a  lady  every  time  1" 

She  pushed  aside  a  tangle  of  tmshes  before  them. 
"The  knoll's  ahead,"  she  called  over  her  shoulder. 
"Come  on." 

They  found  it — a  clearing  that  jutted  out  like  a 
tiny  platform  above  the  sweep  of  land — valleys — 
hills — mountains. 

They  drew  the  horses  to  a  stand  and  shoulder  to 
shoulder  stared  out  over  the  immensity  of  the  coun- 
try before  them — the  hills  were  aflame  with  color. 
The  red  of  the  maples,  the  gold  of  the  oak,  the  ruby 
of  the  sumac  and  ivy,  and  the  rusty  brown  of  the 
fields — the  unfailing  earmarks  of  late  fall. 

"Let's  dismount,"  he  said  at  last.  She  shook  her 
head,  wheeling  her  horse — then  stopped.  After  all, 
why  not?  The  spirit  of  defiance  with  which  she  had 
met  the  past  few  days,  persisted.  What  could  be 
better  than  to  sit  there  staring  over  miles  of  rolling 
land — of  stooping  sky.  She  swung  herself  to  the 
ground  and  let  her  horse  graze.  Phil  was  beside 
her. 

"Daphne,"  he  said  huskily,  "Have  you  played 
with  me  enough?" 

She  turned,  startled.    "What  do  you  mean?" 

He  laughed.     "You  know  what  I  mean — leading 


A  Parting  of  the  Ways          327 

me  on — knowing  I  am  burning  to  hold  you  in  my 
arms  again  as  I  did  that  night " 

"Phil!"  she  gasped,  "what  are  you  saying?  If  I 
hadn't  trusted  you — I  would  never  have  come  here 
with  you — alone." 

"That's  not  so.  You  knew  when  you  came  here 
with  me  I'd  break  loose — I  saw  it  in  your  eyes  when 
you  took  my  dare.  You  knew  it,  didn't  you  ?" 

He  caught  her  wrists.  "Didn't  you?"  She  shrank 
back.  "Why,  no,  Phil — how  could  I — how " 

"Didn't  you?"  he  insisted  harshly.  She  tried  to 
free  herself. 

"I  knew — I  knew  you  cared  for  me.  I  thought 
you  had  put  this  sort  of  thing  behind — I  be- 
lieved  " 

"You're  lying,"  he  said  quietly.  "Ever  since  I 
came  here  you've  been  deliberately  leading  me  on. 
Why  have  you  done  it?  Because  you  cared  for  your 
husband  and  wanted  to  make  him  jealous? — No. — 
Because  you  cared  for  me  and  couldn't  help  showing 
it?  Yes — that's  what  I've  supposed — what's  led  me 
to  say  this — because  you've  discovered  what  an  ig- 
norant fool  your  husband  is  and " 

"Stop !"  she  cried  through  white  lips,  "if  you  say 
that  again  I'll " 

He  laughed.  "By  Jove !  standing  up  for  him  still. 
I'll  believe  you  really  care  for  him  first  thing  you 
know — fancy  your  caring  for  that  sort  of  man — 
why,  if  I  imagined  that " 


328  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  tried  to  turn  the  trend  of  his  thoughts. 

"This  is  madness,  Phil — you  don't  know  what 
you're  saying — you  don't  mean  it.  Let's  get  back. 
It  was  wrong  of  me  to  come.  I  didn't  want  to " 

"It's  not  madness,"  he  cried,  gripping  her  more 
tightly.  "It's  bigger  than  either  of  us  and  now  the 
time  has  come  for  you  to  speak  the  truth.  Do  you 
care  for  me  or  are  you  playing  some  woman's  game 
to  set  me  on  fire?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "You  don't  understand, 
Phil.  I  couldn't  know  you  felt  like — like  this.  I 
didn't  dream " 

"You  knew  every  move  of  the  game.  Just  like 
every  other  woman.  They  all  try  their  little  bag  of 
tricks  and  if  one  won't  work  the  other  will — and 
when  they  have  us  just  where  you  have  me — they 
call  a  halt  and  want  to  stop  playing.  Well,  if  you're 
that  sort,  I'll  show  you  I  won't  be  trifled  with!" 

"Yes,  I'll  tell  you  the  truth  if  you  like.  I  didn't 
love  the  man  I  married — but  I  took  him  rather  than 
let  your  father  ruin  mine!  And  after  it  was  all  over 
I  felt  sorry  for  you — I  supposed  you  couldn't  help 
caring  for  me — I  saw  no  harm  in  our  being  friends 
and  when  my  husband  brought  you  here  I  thought 
you  knew  that  there  was  a  line  you  could  not  cross !" 

Suddenly  his  manner  changed.  "I  won't  hurt  you, 
Daphne,"  he  whined.  "It's  only  that  I  love — don't 
you  know  that  when  a  man  loves  a  woman " 

"When  a  man  loves  a  woman "  she  caught 


A  Parting  of  the  Ways          329 

him  up,  her  eyes  on  his,  "he  waits  until  she  comes  to 
him — until  she  cares  for  him  in  just  the  same  way !" 

"No  man  would  do  that,"  he  insisted.  "He'd  take 
her  when  he  has  the  chance  and  let  her  learn  to 
love  him  afterwards.  There's  no  man  on  earth  who 
would  leave  her  free  if " 

"Yes,  there  is,"  she  flashed  at  him,  "my  husband 
has  done  it!" 

He  stared  at  her.    "Left  you  free?" 

She  nodded  and  his  face  flushed  suddenly.  "Well, 
he's  more  of  a  fool  than  I  took  him  for.  Now  I'll 

show  you  what  a  man "  and  he  leaped  forward, 

but  not  before  she  had  swung  her  crop  and  he  stag- 
gered back  under  the  blow — a  trickle  of  red  cours- 
ing down  his  cheek. 

Before  he  could  recover,  she  sprang  to  her  saddle 
and  wheeling  her  horse  crashed  through  the  under- 
brush. 

Sobbing  and  cursing,  he  caught  his  bridle,  fumbled 
for  his  stirrup  and  mounting,  flung  himself  after  her. 
The  branches  whipped  his  face,  but  he  did  not  seem 
to  heed  them  so  long  as  he  kept  her  in  view.  .  .  . 

Bill  rode  home  earlier  than  usual.  He  called 
Daphne's  maid  to  him. 

''Has  your  mistress  returned  yet?"  She  shook 
her  head  anxiously.  "She  has  never  been  gone  this 
long  before,  sir,"  she  declared.  "I  was  told  to  order 
luncheon,  but  she  has  not  come  back."  He  dismissed 


330  The  Road  of  Ambition 

her,  his  face  grave.  So  it  had  reached  the  point 
where  Daphne  forgot  time — forgot  everything  in 
this  man's  company — and  yet — he  trusted  her.  She 
could  do  no  wrong.  But  Phil  had  had  all  the  innings 
coming  to  him — henceforth,  they  were  to  play  the 
game  shoulder  to  shoulder — and  the  woman  to  the 
better  man. 

He  told  Jenks  to  summon  all  the  servants.  They 
assembled  before  him,  by  the  living  room  fire,  their 
faces  full  of  curiosity. 

They  were  all  there — Brenda,  the  cook,  her 
kitchen  maid,  the  laundress,  Daphne's  maid  and 
Jenks.  Bill  regarded  them  thoughtfully. 

"There's  a  train  leaving  here  tonight  at  seven 
thirty.  I  will  pay  you  in  full  for  your  work  here  and 
you  will  return  to  the  house  in  Bethel  where  Mrs. 
Kemble  will  see  that  you  are  established  in  your  old 
places.  I  think  the  wagon  will  hold  you  all." 

They  stared  at  him  blankly.  "Go! — tonight!" 
He  nodded.  Jenks  broke  the  silence. 

"But  who'll  cook  for  you,  sir? — who'll  serve?" 

Bill  smiled.  "I've  handled  a  stove  or  two  and  as 
for  serving,  I  doubt  if  there'll  be  much  of  it  done — 
you  had  better  start  packing  at  once — the  boy  will 
bring  around  the  carriage  in  plenty  of  time." 

"But  sha'n't  I  start  dinner ?"  gasped  the  cook. 

"Or  set  the  table?"  ventured  Jenks. 

Daphne's  maid  was  sniffling.  "I'm  sure  I've  al- 
ways tried  to  please." 


A  Parting  of  the  Ways  331 

Bill  rose,  the  interview  at  an  end.  "I  have  no 
fault  whatever  to  find  with  you.  You  are  excellent 
servants.  You  will  take  charge  in  the  house  at 
Bethel  as  you  have  always  done.  That  will  be  all," 
and  he  left  them  staring  at  one  another  in  bewildered 
amazement. 

An  hour  later  the  wagon  rolled  away  with  them 
all  and  Bill  seated  himself  before  the  fire,  his  face 
grim — his  eyes  dark.  He  drew  out  his  watch.  It 
was  after  four.  Suddenly  he  rose  to  his  feet,  pacing. 
Then  as  the  silence  became  unendurable — as  the 
clock  ticked  off  the  minutes  relentlessly,  he  caught  up 
his  hat. 

"Something's  wrong!"  he  muttered  fiercely.  "If 
he's  hurt  her "  and  he  flung  out  of  the  house. 

His  horse  was  still  saddled  and  he  was  half  glad — 
it  saved  a  little  time.  He  mounted  and  swung  him 
into  the  path.  The  ground  was  hard  and  he  could 
find  no  trace  of  fresh  hoof  prints,  but  he  saw  a  break 
in  the  bushes  in  the  direction  of  the  knoll  and  guessed 
they  had  passed  that  way.  He  spurred  his  horse 
through  the  woods.  At  the  knoll  he  again  found 
fresh  trace  of  them.  A  horse  had  pawed  the  ground 
while  grazing — that  was  all.  He  wheeled  impa- 
tiently. Why  had  he  let  the  servants  go — they  might 
have  aided  in  the  search.  Where  could  they  be  in 
that  wilderness — why  had  they  chosen  a  trackless 
path? 

He  studied  his  surroundings  in  the  growing  dusk. 


332  The  Road  of  Ambition 

The  bushes  had  been  trampled  by  horses  at  full 
swing — it  was  not  difficult  to  follow  the  path  of 
beaten  shrubs — if  only  night  did  not  fall — he  cursed 
the  deepening  shadows  and  spurred  his  horse. 

Suddenly  he  drew  rein,  clinging  to  a  bush  was  a 
wisp  of  white  cambric — a  torn  shred — he  examined 
it  closely — his  face  suddenly  grim — what  did  it  mean 
— he  raised  his  voice : 

"Daphne,"  he  shouted.    "Oh,  Daphne  I" 

There  was  no  answer  and  he  pressed  forward,  the 
ascent  was  steeper — the  underbrush  a  thick  tangle 
of  thorns — why  had  they  come  this  way? — if  he  had 
harmed  her 

"Daphne,"  he  shouted.  He  rose  in  his  stirrups, 
calling — and  the  answer  came — a  faint  halloo.  He 
sank  back — his  hands  trembling — she  was  safe — she 
was  near — she  had  heard  him.  ... 

In  a  clearing  beside  a  stream,  he  found  them — 
Phil  lay  with  his  eyes  closed,  and  Daphne  crouched 
beside  him.  She  looked  like  a  child  kneeling  there, 
the  long  yellow  braid  over  her  shoulder,  her  face 
white  as  snow.  She  did  not  rise,  but  she  pointed  to 
Phil. 

"See  if  he's — alive,"  she  whispered. 

Bill  leaped  from  his  horse  and  ran  to  the  man's 
side.  He  examined  him  closely.  There  was  a  deep 
cut  on  his  forehead  which  she  had  tried  to  bind  with 
shreds  torn  from  her  handkerchief.  He  questioned 
her  crisply. 


A  Parting  of  the  Ways          333 

"When  did  it  happen?" 

"Early  this  morning."  She  stooped  and  leaned 
toward  Bill,  suddenly.  "Oh,"  she  breathed,  "I'm 
so  glad  you've  come — I  knew  you  would " 

He  was  examining  the  wound.  "Something 
struck  him — what  was  it?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment  and  then  her 
eyes  were  lowered. 

"A  bough — it  snapped  back,  he  fell  from  his  horse 
and  I  tried  to  help  him — but  there  was  so  little  I 
could  do — just  bathe  it — and  I  didn't  know  the  way, 
we  had  come  so  far — and  I  couldn't  leave  him — I 

was  afraid  to — so  I  called  and  called  until " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  Bill  stared  at 
her,  his  face  white  with  sudden  relief. 

"Steady  now,"  he  said,  "he's  had  a  nasty  cut — 

but  I've  seen  many  a  worse  one  at  the  Works " 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  the  piece  of  torn  cambric. 
"I  found  this  on  a  bush  back  a  ways — I  was  afraid — 
I  thought  something  had  happened  to  you." 

She  raised  her  head — her  eyes  met  his — then  she 
lowered  them. 

"No,"  she  whispered.    "I'm  all  right." 

Bill  rose.  "I'll  put  him  over  my  shoulder  if  you'll 
lead  the  horses.  Think  you  feel  up  to  it?" 

She  nodded. 

"You'd  better  mount.     I'll  bring  them  to  you." 

He  lifted  her  into  the  saddle  without  further  com- 
ment, then  turned  to  Phil  again.  He  tore  his  own 


334  The  Road  of  Ambition 

handkerchief  into  strips,  dipped  them  in  the  stream 
and  bound  the  wound  anew.  Then  he  forced  some 
brandy  between  the  man's  lips.  Phil  opened  his  eyes, 
with  a  flicker  of  a  smile. 

"So  you  found  us,"  he  whispered.  "Well,  I'm 
glad  of  it,"  and  he  drifted  off  again. 

Bill  swung  him  easily  over  his  shoulder  and  or- 
dered her  to  follow. 

"I'll  go  slow  and  you  come  along  behind,"  he 
called.  "Take  all  the  time  you  need — ready?" 

She  nodded.  She  could  not  have  spoken  just 
then. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

DAPHNE'S  DECISION 

*  I  A  HE  shack  was  in  darkness — Daphne,  swaying 
•*-  in  her  saddle  from  weariness,  straightened  with 
a  gasp. 

"The  servants !"  she  cried.    Bill  paused  to  answer. 

"They're  gone — all  of  them." 

"Gone  I"  she  cried. 

"Yes.  Bag  and  baggage."  He  vouchsafed  no 
more.  He  carried  Phil  into  the  living  room,  stirred 
the  fire  and  left  her  to  follow.  She  entered,  dazed, 
numb.  The  logs  were  beginning  to  blaze.  Scamp, 
delighted  at  their  return,  pranced  and  fawned  be- 
fore them.  Bill  nodded  his  head  toward  the  figure 
on  the  couch. 

"He'll  come  around  in  a  little  while.  Don't  worry 
about  him — get  your  things  off — I'll  start  dinner." 

Still  she  faced  him.  "I  don't  understand.  The 
servants  were  satisfied.  What  made  them  leave  this 
way?  What  shall  we  do  without  them?  I  am  so 
tired  I " 

He  smiled  a  trifle.  "You'll  feel  better  after  din- 
ner. Go  lie  down  until  I  call  you." 

He  noticed  a  sudden  tenseness  about  her — as 
335 


336  The  Road  of  Ambition 

though  she  were  bracing  herself  for  something.  He 
waited. 

"And  Phil — won't — won't  die — or " 

So  that  was  what  troubled  herl  Fear  for  this 
man!  He  smiled  to  himself — what  a  fool  he  had 
been  to  mistake  the  warmth  in  her  voice — her  man- 
ner— to  think  they  were  for  him  alone  I 

"No,"  he  said  abruptly.  "He's  not  badly  hurt. 
Takes  more  than  that  to  kill  a  man." 

She  sighed  with  relief.  "Oh,  I  was  so  afraid — 
he  lay  so  still — I  thought  help  would  never 
come " 

He  shut  his  lips  tightly.  So  her  joy  in  seeing  him 
— that  glad  light  that  had  leaped  to  her  eyes  was 
only  for  Phil.  He  straightened  his  shoulders. 

She  was  studying  him.  "What  made  you  come 
after  me?"  she  demanded  suddenly. 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  know.  I  had  no 
real  reason  to,  I  suppose,  except  that  it  grew  late 
and  I  became  restless — I  thought  perhaps  you  had 
been  hurt " 

"And — and — was  that  all  you  thought?"  She 
waited,  breathless,  for  his  answer.  He  laughed. 

"Wasn't  that  enough?  That  was  the  worst 
thought  in  all  the  world  to  me." 

"Was  it?"  she  said  softly,  and  seemed  about  tc 
add  something  when  he  broke  in  gruffly: 

"You'd  better  get  some  rest.  I'll  start  things 
going,"  and  left  her. 


Daphne's  Decision  337 

He  found  the  kitchen  immaculate.  Brenda,  in 
spite  of  her  orders,  had  left  the  steak  on  the  broiler 
— had  peeled  the  potatoes.  He  wondered  if  he  had 
lost  his  knack — it  was  months  since  he  had  turned  his 
hand  to  anything  of  this  kind.  He  rolled  up  his 
sleeves  and  shook  the  fire  until  the  flames  leaped 
high.  He  rejoiced  in  their  heat  on  his  face.  He  was 
glad  when  the  tempting  odor  of  cooking  meat  smote 
him.  He  turned  the  steak  on  its  other  side — the 
cloud  of  choking  smoke  arose — he  grinned  at  it — 
there  was  no  time  to  think  now.  That  was  what 
God  gave  a  man  two  hands  for — to  keep  his  mind 
from  mischief.  He  wondered  grimly  what  would 
have  happened  in  the  week  he  had  planned — had 
mapped  out — perhaps  she  might  have  learned  to 
care  for  him  after  all.  .  .  . 

He  shook  himself  together  impatiently — he  was 
wrong  from  the  start — the  sort  of  thing  he  had  set 
out  to  do  wasn't  practicable — you  couldn't  trans- 
plant a  hothouse  flower  into  rugged  soil  and  expect 
it  to  thrive — no — keeping  her  there  with  him — with 
a  man  she  detested  was  killing  her — he  had  never 
seen  her  look  so  frail — so  white.  True,  she  had  been 
happy  at  first — but  not  for  long.  She  had  begun  to 
wilt  and  droop — and  yet  she  had  been  game — not 
a  complaint  had  crossed  her  lips — but  now  he  saw 
it  plainly.  She  had  married  him,  loving  Phil — and 
he  had  thrown  Phil  in  her  path — and  even  at  that 
she  had  played  square,  although  it  was  telling  on 


338  The  Road  of  Ambition 

her — no — he  would  send  her  back  to  Bethel — back 
to  the  life  she  loved — to  the  people  she  loved.  Was 
it  her  fault  that  she  could  not  care  for  the  man  she 
had  married.  .  .  .  ! 

He  turned  at  the  whisper  of  silk  behind  him.  She 
was  there.  Her  face  very  white — her  eyes  green 
pools — she  had  dressed  in  the  gown  she  had  worn  at 
the  window  on  the  magic  night  when  he  had  watched 
her  unobserved — had  trembled  that  a  woman  so 
beautiful — a  woman  of  marble — and  gold — should 
belong  to  him. 

She  approached  him  timidly.  "I  tried  to  rest,  but 
I  couldn't — I'd  rather  stay  in  here  with  you — if  I 
may." 

He  clenched  his  fists — yes,  he  would  send  her 
away — he  would  not  keep  her  with  him — not  when 
his  whole  soul  cried  out  for  her — he  had  been  strong 
— but  he  had  reached  the  snapping  point. 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  have  a  bad  time  of  it  here  with- 
out the  servants — it  will  be  hard  to  get  others  out 
here.  Perhaps  you  had  better  go  back  to  Bethel 
when  Colt  goes." 

Her  eyes  widened,  but  she  did  not  speak.  He 
did  not  look  at  her.  He  shrank  from  seeing  the  re- 
lief in  her  eyes — he  turned  his  back. 

"I've  got  a  lot  of  work  to  do.  I'll  manage  all 
right  with  the  stable  boy  to  look  after  the  horses  and 
start  the  fire,  but  there's  nothing  to  keep  you  here — 
now." 


Daphne's  Decision  339 

She  caught  her  breath — so  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of 
her  as  badly  as  that!  was  sending  her  away  like  a 
troublesome  child.  Perhaps  he  had  even  discharged 
the  servants  to  precipitate  such  a  move — to  give  him- 
self a  legitimate  excuse  for  dismissing  her. 

"So  you  sent  them  away!"  she  flung  at  him.  He 
whirled  on  her. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  sent  the  servants  away  yourself,  didn't 
you?" 

He  bowed  his  head.    Her  eyes  were  flashing. 

"Well,  I'll  go — I'll  go  tomorrow !  Do  you  think 
I'd  stay  a  minute — an  instant  after  this?  Did  you 
think  you  needed  to  do  this  to  drive  me  away?  I 
would  have  gone  long  ago  had  you  let  me !" 

He  stared  at  her  dully.  "You  can  go  in  the  morn- 
ing if  you  like — or  whenever  you  choose." 

She  left  him,  with  flaming  cheeks.  She  raged  at 
herself  for  her  anger.  After  all,  that  was  what  she 
wanted — she  had  desired  all  along  to  return  to 
Bethel — this  was  a  golden  opportunity.  Phil's  words 
rang  in  her  ears,  "I  suppose  he's  glad  to  get  you  off 
his  hands."  Glad!  of  course  he  was  glad! 

He  had  married  her  to  gratify  his  pride — to  crown 
his  series  of  achievements — now  that  she  interfered 
with  his  work  she  was  summarily  dismissed. 

Philip  was  right.  The  man  was  a  machine — a  ma- 
chine that  ground  out  business — that  throve  on  iron 
and  steel.  She  would  find  Phil  and  tell  him  so. 


34-O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  couch,  feeling 
his  head  tenderly. 

"Phil,"  she  cried,  approaching  him,  "I'm  sorry 
— I'm  sorry  for  everything  I  said — everything  I 
did " 

He  stared  at  her  stupidly.  "What's  happened, 
Daphne?  What's  he  done?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "He  doesn't  know  that  you 
— that  I — quarreled.  He  thinks  the  bough  struck 
you — I  couldn't  tell  him " 

Phil  nodded.  "That's  right."  Then  he  looked 
at  her  curiously. 

"Something's  up.    What  is  it?" 

"I'm  going  back  with  you  tomorrow  to 
Bethel " 

"Going  back — you  mean,  Daphne " 

"I  mean  that  you  were  right — and  I  was 
wrong " 

He  tried  to  question  her  but  she  moved  away. 
She  wanted  to  be  alone — and  that  in  itself  was  irony 
— she  had  shrunk  from  her  own  company  for  the 
past  week — and  now  her  mood  demanded  solitude. 
She  went  to  her  room  and  shut  her  door.  So  this 
would  be  her  last  night  in  the  woods  with  her  hus- 
band. She  shrank  from  the  darkness — from  the 
very  night  sounds  she  had  loved — she  wished  pas- 
sionately that  the  long,  black  hours  were  over — that 
she  might  go — and  again  the  torturing  voice  whis- 
^ered — did  she  want  to  go?  Did  she  want  to  leave 


Daphne's  Decision  341 

the  side  of  the  man  she  had  vowed  to  hate — the  man 
she  could  not  banish  from  her  thoughts? 

Someone  was  rapping  softly.  She  sprang  up  with 
alarm.  If  Philip  had  dared — but  it  was  Bill.  He 
had  brought  her  a  tray. 

"It  isn't  much.  But  you'd  better  take  a  bite. 
Here,  let  me  light  up." 

She  pushed  it  away  and  shook  her  head.  But  he 
would  not  be  gainsaid. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said.    "Now  you're  going  to  eat." 

She  found  herself  obeying.  He  lighted  the  lamp. 
He  treated  her  like  a  disobedient  child — she  won- 
dred  if  he  had  treated  his  workmen  that  way — if 
they  had  done  his  bidding  as  quickly  as  she  did.  She 
ate  silently  and  found  she  relished  the  food.  He  had 
dropped  down  on  a  chair  beside  her.  He  did  not 
seem  to  know  he  was  intruding — he  waited  quietly 
until  she  had  finished.  At  length  she  pushed  away 
the  tray,  and  he  rose. 

"There.  You'll  feel  better."  He  took  it  from 
her.  "You'll  find  everything  in  good  shape  back 
home.  I'll  be  detained  here  a  while  longer — don't 
worry  about  me,  though — I  like  it  here."  He 
smiled,  but  his  eyes  were  on  the  wall — he  would  not 
meet  hers. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  softly.  "You  have  been 
very  kind." 

When  he  had  gone  she  sat  as  he  had  left  her,  her 
hands  clasped  in  her  lap.  She  fell  asleep  that  way— 


342  The  Road  of  Ambition 

and  the  sun  in  her  eyes,  flooding  her  window,  awak- 
ened her.  She  started  up — what  had  happened? 
She  was  stiff  from  her  cramped  position.  Why  had 
she  slept  that  way?  Then  she  remembered — she  was 
going  away — the  morrow  had  come — she  was  free 
to  return — and  because  she  was  free — because  the 
cage  door  was  open,  she  unaccountably  dropped  her 
head  on  her  arm  and  sobbed.  That  was  no  way  to 
greet  her  release — she  stormed  to  herself — and  be- 
cause she  could  not  feel  glad  in  spite  of  all  her  ef- 
forts— she  cried  the  harder — it  was  her  pride  that 
was  hurt,  she  concluded.  It  was  one  thing  to  go  be- 
cause you  wished  to  and  quite  another  to  be  sent 
away. 

The  hours  passed  in  a  haze.  She  felt  as  though 
she  were  a  spectator  of  a  scene  in  which  someone 
resembling  herself  played  a  leading  part.  This 
someone  who  tumbled  things  together  hastily  into  a 
grip — who  endeavored  to  dress  with  shaking  hand — 
to  eat  the  food  set  before  her. 

Phil  was  in  high  spirits.  A  good  sleep  had  set 
him  up  again,  and  he  was  eager  to  be  off. 

As  they  sat  about  the  spotless  table  in  the  long 
kitchen,  she  found  herself  watching  Bill's  face.  He 
looked  as  though  he  had  not  slept — his  eyes  were 
lustreless — profoundly  tired — but  there  was  a  grim 
purpose  in  them.  She  wondered  what  made  his  jaw 
so  tense — his  lips  so  stern. 

Philip  alone  seemed  unaware  of  the  cloud  which 


Daphne's  Decision  343 

had  fallen  over  them  both — he  talked  of  trains — of 
time  tables — of  things  to  be  done  on  his  return — 
and  Bill,  when  appealed  to,  responded  in  monosyl- 
lables— but  Daphne  found  she  could  not — her  only 
safety  lay  in  silence. 

Phil  insisted  that  in  order  to  make  connections 
and  reach  Bethel  by  nightfall  they  must  leave  at 
once.  She  did  not  seem  to  hear.  She  saw  Bill's 
hand  clench  suddenly  as  though  from  a  spasm  of 
pain.  She  wondered  what  his  thoughts  were — was 
he  anxious  to  be  rid  of  her? — to  shut  himself  up  with 
his  work.  .  .  . 

At  last  Phil's  insistence  penetrated.  She  must  get 
ready.  The  wagon  would  be  there  in  a  few  minutes. 
It  was  a  good  two-hours'  drive.  She  moved  away  re- 
luctantly. Bill  was  stirring  his  coffee — now  that  she 
thought  of  it,  he  had  drunk  none — not  a  drop.  She 
thought  his  hand  trembled,  but  she  could  not  be 
sure. 

The  stable  boy  knocked  at  the  door.  He  would 
take  her  bag — her  wraps — but  Bill  thrust  him  aside 
roughly,  and  lifted  them  into  the  wagon  himself. 
She  followed  slowly,  for  an  instant  she  lingered  in 
the  living  room — the  glowing  fire  in  the  hearth — the 
splotch  of  yellow  sunshine  on  the  wall — the  pillows 
piled  on  the  couch — tugged  at  her  heart  strangely — 
she  crushed  back  the  words  on  her  lips.  He  did  not 
want  her.  He  was  sending  her  away.  She  would 
not  humble  her  pride  to  plead — not  though  she  were 


344  The  Road  of  Ambition 

torn  at  leaving — for  she  knew  it  now — she  admitted 
it  to  herself  proudly. 

He  helped  her  into  the  wagon.  Philip  had  run 
back  for  his  gloves  and  she  waited  for  Bill  to  speak. 

"If  you  need  me  at  any  time,  wire  me,"  was  all  he 
said.  She  nodded.  Phil  hurried  out — watch  in  hand 
— and  sprang  in.  The  boy  gathered  up  the  reins 
and  the  horses  leaped  forward. 

She  did  not  look  back,  but  she  knew  he  was  stand- 
ing there  bareheaded  in  the  road — just  as  he  had 
done  the  first  time  he  had  seen  her.  He  waited  until 
the  carriage  was  lost  to  sight  around  a  bend  in  the 
road — then  turned  abruptly.  A  thrush  was  sing- 
ing on  a  bough  close  by — a  full-throated  morning 
song — the  sky's  blue  was  deepening  into  turquoise — 
the  very  air  was  crisp  and  sweet  in  its  newness — but 
he  did  not  seem  to  see  nor  hear.  He  moved  like  a 
sleep  walker — he  stumbled  into  the  shack.  The  dog 
pawed  him  affectionately — but  he  thrust  him  aside. 

He  went  to  her  room.  He  flung  open  the  door. 
He  found  it  cold — bare — impersonal — the  little 
trinkets  that  made  it  hers — the  slippers  peeping  from 
beneath  the  bed — the  brush  and  comb  on  the  bureau 
— the  tea  gown  limp  on  its  hook — were  gone. 

He  stood  awkwardly  in  the  doorway,  his  hands 
thrust  deep  in  his  pockets.  She  had  been  there  last 
night.  In  that  very  chair — the  lamp's  glow  on  her 
hair — only  last  night — why,  it  seemed  an  eternity 
agol  And  now  there  was  nothing  left — not  one 


Daphne's  Decision  345 

small  thing  .  .  .  Nothing — and  as  he  turned  to  go, 
his  eye  caught  something — something  sheen  and 
filmy  that  lay  in  a  huddled  heap  on  the  floor.  He 
leaped  toward  it  with  a  cry.  It  was  the  gown  she 
had  worn — the  gown  he  loved ! 

He  caught  it  up  in  his  arms — he  laid  his  cheek 
against  its  cool  silkiness — and  as  its  faint  aroma 
reached  him — elusive — sweet — he  crushed  it  to  him. 

"Daphne,"  he  cried.  "I  want  you.  ...  I 
need  you.  ..."  It  was  a  strong  man's  cry  to  his 
mate — but  there  was  no  answer. 

The  train  was  puffing  in  the  station.  Phil  tossed 
the  boy  a  coin  and  leaped  out.  Daphne  followed 
with  dragging  steps.  She  hated  the  station — she 
hated  the  train  panting  like  a  thing  alive — tugging 
at  its  leash  to  be  off — but  most  of  all  she  hated  the 
man  beside  her — who  drew  her  forward,  unresist- 
ing— who  gave  her  no  opportunity — no  excuse  for 
protest. 

The  boy  lifted  the  grips  aboard  and  grinned  at 
her. 

"I'll  look  after  the  master,"  he  said.  "Guess  I'd 
best  go  now." 

She  watched  him  turn  the  horses.  Saw  him  speak 
to  a  village  acquaintance,  leaning  over  the  dash- 
board. She  wanted  to  cry  out  to  him  to  wait — to 
take  her  back  with  him — but  she  could  not.  Instead, 
she  let  Phil  help  her  aboard.  She  was  glad  when  he 


346  The  Road  of  Ambition 

left  her  for  a  few  minutes.  She  settled  down  on  the 
red  plush  cushions  and  stared  out. 

Over  and  over  again  she  told  herself  that  Bill 
wished  her  to  go — but  a  thought  persisted  in  spite 
of  her — suppose  she  were  wrong — suppose  he 
wanted  her  after  all — suppose She  straight- 
ened up  with  a  start — her  hands  clasped — her  lips 
parted — for  in  that  minute  it  flashed  on  her  that  she 
had  to  know — at  any  cost  she  had  to  hear  from  his 
own  lips  that  he  was  banishing  her!  .  .  . 

She  rose  to  her  feet  impulsively.  Phil  had  not  yet 
returned.  She  was  very  glad  of  that.  She  was 
afraid  her  determination  would  not  survive  his  ob- 
jections. 

There  were  yet  a  few  minutes  before  the  train 
left — a  few  minutes  in  which  to  act.  She  spied  the 
brakeman  near  the  door.  She  turned  to  him.  "I'm 
going  to  get  off,"  she  said,  "and  when  the  gentleman 
returns  tell  him  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go  back 
— just  that — I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go  back." 

He  looked  at  her,  puzzled.  But  she  continued 
quickly.  "He  is  not  to  follow  me — it  would  be  use- 
less— tell  him  I  had  to  go,  do  you  understand?" 

He  stared  at  her  curiously  and  moved  aside  to 
let  her  alight.  At  the  far  end  of  the  station,  she  saw 
Phil.  He  was  dickering  about  baggage  and  checks. 
She  moved  back  in  the  shadow  of  the  station.  She 
waited — her  heart  beating  in  her  ears. 

Then  came  the  sharp  scream  of  the  whistle — the 


Daphne's  Decision  347 

train  jerked  forward.  Phil  leaped  aboard  and  clam- 
bered up  the  steps.  She  stepped  inside  the  little  sta- 
tion as  the  train  rumbled  by — soon  it  was  a  mere 
speck  of  black  on  two  gleaming  tracks.  She  drew 
a  quick  breath.  Well,  she  had  done  it! 

She  came  forth  cautiously — almost  as  though  she 
feared  someone  might  stop  her — question  her — but 
the  little  group  that  gathered  at  train  times  had  dis- 
banded. The  village  street  lay  calm — serene — de- 
serted beneath  the  cloudless  sky.  No — there  was 
nothing  to  hinder  her  return — nothing  on  earth.  .  . 

She  passed  from  the  Main  Street  with  its  row  of 
little  shops,  into  the  dusty  road  that  wound  upwards. 
Somewheres — miles  distant — she  knew  it  would 
reach  the  door  of  the  shack.  She  began  the  climb. 

She  felt  suddenly  carefree  and  ridiculously  happy 
— as  though  a  burden  had  rolled  from  her  shoulders 
— as  though  she  were  coming  into  her  own.  She 
drew  off  her  hat — and  let  the  soft  wind  whip  the 
tendrils  of  her  hair  about  her  face.  She  rejoiced  in 
the  air's  freshness — in  the  wildness  of  the  little  road. 
She  found  herself  humming,  and  laughed  at  the 
sound.  How  did  she  dare — when  she  knew  not  what 
lay  in  store  for  her  at  her  journey's  end?  But  that 
did  not  stem  her  song — she  would  at  least  see  him — 
be  near  him.  She  thought  of  unconsidered  trifles — 
the  strength  of  his  arms.  .  .  . 

The  road  became  steeper,  but  she  loved  its  very 
steepness.  It  sent  the  color  into  her  cheeks — she 


348  The  Road  of  Ambition 

laughed  at  her  own  exhaustion  and  plodded  on.  She 
half  hoped  no  wagon  would  pass — she  would  like 
to  return  to  him  thus,  on  foot  every  step  of  the  way. 

The  song  she  hummed  became  louder  as  she 
pressed  forward.  There  was  still  a  long  ways  to  go 
— and  at  the  end — what? 

She  was  forced  to  stop  more  often  as  the  morn- 
ing changed  into  early  afternoon.  She  was  dust 
covered — hungry — tired — but  the  eager  light  still 
sparkled  in  her  eyes. 

She  lay  down  beside  a  little  stream  and  bathed  her 
face  and  hands.  She  did  not  move  for  a  long  while. 
She  was  suddenly  acutely  aware  of  her  weariness — 
the  tension  of  the  past  weeks — the  sleeplessness — 
the  mental  torture.  She  closed  her  eyes.  When  she 
awoke  it  was  growing  dark.  She  started  up  in  dis- 
may. The  sun — a  red  globe — was  slipping  down  be- 
hind the  trees.  She  scrambled  to  her  feet.  Why 
had  she  slept  when  there  was  yet  a  long  ways  to  go ! 
It  would  be  dark  in  a  little  while — very  dark. 

It  was  late  when  she  reached  the  shack.  She 
moved  forward  slowly.  She  was  overpoweringly 
weary — and  suddenly  afraid — afraid  of  him — of 
herself — what  would  he  think  of  her? — what  could 
she  say? 

She  shivered  a  little  as  she  approached.  There 
was  no  light  within,  but  the  door  was  unlocked.  She 
pushed  it  open.  She  listened  for  Scamp's  bark — for 
Bill's  gruff  voice — but  there  was  only  silence. 


Daphne's  Decision  349 

"Bill!"  she  whispered,  suddenly  alarmed.  "Bill 
— it's  I — Daphne — I've  come — home!" 

Still  silence  .  .  .  and  she  knew  he  was  out  tramp- 
ing in  the  woods.  Suppose  he  should  not  come  back ! 
Suppose  she  should  have  to  spend  the  night  alone  in 
that  black  cottage.  She  shuddered  and  ran  out.  "I'll 
find  him!"  she  whispered.  "I'll  find  him.  ... 

In  a  clearing,  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  trees, 
Bill  had  built  a  fire — he  had  built  it  partly  as  shel- 
ter against  the  approaching  frost  but  largely  because 
a  fire  is  a  friendly  thing — and  he  did  not  wish  to  be 
alone  in  the  darkness  with  his  thoughts.  Scamp,  hav- 
ing tramped  at  his  heels  all  day,  lay  down  gratefully 
before  the  crackle  of  wood,  content  to  drop  his  head 
between  his  paws.  But  the  man  moved  about  rest- 
lessly— now  staring  grimly  into  the  flames — now 
into  the  velvety  darkness.  He  would  stay  there  all 
night.  Sleep  by  the  fire — he  could  not  go  back  to 
the  shack  that  shouted  aloud  her  presence — nor  to 
the  house  in  Bethel — perhaps  he  would  go  abroad — 
plunge  himself  in  work  over  there — he  must  do 
something  to  distract  his  mind — to  make  him  forget 
her. 

"Daphne,"  he  groaned.  "I  want  you.  ...  I 
need  you.  ..." 

Suddenly  Scamp  stiffened  and  growled.  And  Bill 
sprang  to  his  feet.  He  heard  the  snap  of  a  twig 
beneath  a  foot.  Perhaps  it  was  the  boy  with  a  mes- 


350  The  Road  of  Ambition 

sage — perhaps  she  had  sent  for  him.  Scamp  leaped 
forward  with  a  snarl  that  changed  to  a  yelp  of 
delight.  Bill  whirled — and  seeing,  staggered 
back.  .  .  . 

It  was  Daphne — alone — coming  toward  him  with 
a  timid  smile  on  her  lips — a  question  in  her  eyes. 
He  stared  at  her.  He  brushed  a  dazed  hand  across 
his  brow — surely  he  was  dreaming  it — dreaming  it 

all.  "Daphne!"  he  whispered.  "You  came " 

He  saw  in  her  eyes  a  light  he  had  never  before  seen. 

"Did  you  want  me,  Bill?     I  couldn't  know " 

"Want  you!"  he  cried.     "Want  you  .  .  .    !" 

Still  she  waited,  eyeing  him  gravely — but  with  a 
deep  brooding  tenderness. 

"I  had  to  know,"  she  whispered.  "I  had  to 
know " 

He  took  a  step  toward  her  and  then  paused.  "But 
you — I  don't  understand — why  have  you  done  this?" 

She  raised  her  head  and  her  eyes  met  his  fear- 
lessly. 

"Because  I  love  you,"  she  said  simply. 

And  with  a  cry  he  opened  his  arms.  .  .  . 

They  sat  long  before  the  fire,  her  cheek  against 
his  hand.  .  .  . 

"I  was  afraid,"  she  whispered,  "I  thought  you 
cared  for  those  other  things — that  they  meant  more 
to  you  than  I " 

He  caught  her  to  him.     "No,"  he  cried,  "it  was 


Daphne's  Decision  351 

because  I  dared  not  dream  of  this  that  I  bound  my- 
self up  in  my  work — but  now  with  you  to  help  me — 
with  you  at  my  side — I  can  rise  to  any  heights — 
there's  nothing  I  can't  do — nothing." 

She  smiled  a  trifle  at  the  confidence  in  his  voice — 
the  glad,  leaping  confidence. 

"You're  so  strong,"  she  said  slowly.  "I've  always 
felt  you  needed  no  one  really — you've  done  so  much 
alone.  Are  you  sure  I  sha'n't — be  in  your  way?" 

He  laughed  tenderly.     "I  shall  need  you  always." 

"But  if  you  don't,"  she  insisted,  "if  I  find  I  am 
hindering  you — holding  you  back — I  promise  to  go 
away." 

"Hush !"  he  said  sternly,  "you  will  never  leave  me 
for  an  instant!" 

He  rose.  "Come,  child,"  he  said,  "it's  time  for  us 
to  go  home."  He  gave  her  his  hand  and  they  stood 
together — smiling  softly,  their  hearts  beating  high 
with  emotion. 

"I  must  tell  you  something  first — something  about 
Phil!" 

"Well?"  he  said,  stiffening. 

She  moved  closer  to  him.  "It's  about  his  wound 
— it  was  I  who  struck  him !" 

"You!"  he  cried.     She  nodded. 

"He  had  said  something  against  you — I  couldn't 
bear  it  so  I  struck  him — then  he  came  after  me  and 
a  bough  snapping  back  cut  deeper  into  the  wound — 
that's  how — that's  why " 


352  The  Road  of  Ambition 

But  Bill  bent  down  suddenly  and  lifted  her  in  his 
arms. 

"Little  Snow  Woman,"  he  cried,  "you  did  it  be- 
cause of  me?" 

She  nodded,  her  cheek  against  his  shoulder,  her 
hair  brushing  his  lips. 

And  as  she  lay  in  his  arms,  curiously  enough  the 
prayer  he  had  uttered  at  the  Works,  sprang  once 
more  to  his  lips. 

*'God  make  me  good  to  her — always,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

She  stirred  comfortably  and  sighed  in  an  aban- 
donment of  content,  and  he  smiled  down  at  her  ten- 
derly— she  had  come  to  him — he  had  conquered 
again — how  supremely  wonderful  was  life  ! 

Then  he  flung  back  his  shoulders  and  strode  for- 
ward through  the  black  woods  swiftly — easily — 
triumphantly. 


They  Sat  Long  Before  the  Fire,  Her  Cheek 
Against  His  Arm 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

NEW   TRIUMPHS 

"DETHEL  lay  in  the  grip  of  winter — its  trees  hung 
•"•^  with  icicles — its  roads  snow-choked.  A  large 
number  of  its  hilltop  dwellers  had  migrated  south- 
ward, as  was  their  wont — and  those  who  remained 
behind,  entered  into  the  gayety  of  the  winter  season 
— Bethel's  merriest  time. 

The  Big  Four  had  stayed  behind — even  Decker's 
susceptibility  to  heady  colds  was  forgotten  in  the  new 
interest  and  excitement  of  launching  "The  Bethel 
Transatlantic  Company."  Bill  himself  had  not  fore- 
seen the  enormous  profits  which  would  accrue  in  so 
short  a  time.  As  president  of  a  baby  industry  which 
had  grown  overnight  into  a  giant,  he  found  himself 
swamped  with  work. 

The  stock  was  snapped  up — he  himself  plunged 
heavily,  buying  ten  thousand  shares  at  par,  on  a  ten 
per  cent,  margin — a  margin  his  brokers  gladly  took, 
knowing  the  man's  capabilities.  No,  they  had  no 
fear  of  any  enterprise  handled  by  Big  Bill  Matthews. 
He  was  a  Croesus — his  touch  turned  clay  to  gold. 

The  venture  was  so  tremendous — so  far  surpass- 
ing anything  previously  attempted,  that  the  Asso- 
353 


354  The  Road  of  Ambition 

dated  Press,  pouncing  upon  the  news,  featured  the 
progress  of  the  new  company  in  glaring  type.  Photo- 
graphs of  its  docks — its  ships — its  crews  were  seized 
upon.  Pictures  of  the  French  port  in  construction — 
nearing  completion — were  reproduced,  and  due  hom- 
age paid  the  man  whose  genius  had  again  pushed 
American  initiative  to  the  front. 

Bill,  as  the  fifth  partner,  became  the  center  of  a 
system  which  he  himself  had  built  up.  He  directed 
it  like  a  general.  Where  he  could  not  be  on  hand 
himself,  he  saw  that  first  class  men  were  installed. 
He  knew  the  need  of  buying  brains,  and  paid  huge 
sums  for  them.  He  was  after  "end  figures" — and 
he  got  them ! 

Desperately  busy  with  his  thousand  and  one 
plans,  he  spent  long  hours  in  conference — inves- 
tigating ways  and  means,  debating  new  methods  of 
attack.  There  was  little  time  for  play  these  days, 
but  he  loved  the  work.  He  attacked  it  with  a  vim 
and  snap  that  amazed  him.  He  never  seemed  to 
tire.  It  was  his  giant  strength,  the  body  that  steel 
had  built  up — the  superb  thing  of  muscle  and  sinew 
that  years  of  labor  had  hardened. 

And  the  woman  he  loved  stood  by  his  side.  In 
the  first  months  after  their  return  from  the  hills  she 
had  been  afraid  of  the  endless  tasks  which  took  him 
from  her — but  with  a  determination  whose  root  lay 
in  her  love  for  him,  she  began  to  acquaint  herself 
with  the  problems  that  beset  him — timidly  at  first — 


New  Triumphs  355 

she  knew  so  little  of  such  things — but  gradually  find- 
ing an  absorbing  interest  in  the  great  game  he  was 
playing — the  game  of  life. 

He  shrank  from  her  help  at  the  start — afraid  it 
would  tire  her — a  little  impatient  of  explaining  his 
business  to  her,  as  all  men  are — but  when  he  found 
her  able  to  grasp  the  phrases  he  used — saw  the  quick 
conclusions  she  drew — the  directness  with  which  she 
reached  a  point — he  took  her  more  and  more  into 
his  confidence.  He  poured  out  his  hopes  to  her.  It 
was  a  new  Daphne  that  Bethel  came  to  know. 

"She's  really  in  love  with  him!"  they  told  one 
another.  "What  is  the  secret  of  his  power?" 

It  was  at  her  suggestion  that  Bill  secured  the 
Bethel  Courier. 

"Newspapers  are  such  important  allies,"  she  had 
urged.  "Why  not  have  one  of  your  own  in  which  all 
you  wish  to  say  will  be  set  down — plans  for  the 
Works — for  the  men — anything  you  care  about  hav- 
ing published." 

He  negotiated  and  took  over  the  paper,  installed 
his  own  editor,  then  turned  to  the  next  problem  in 
hand. 

It  was  right  there  that  Dugan  stepped  in.  He  did 
it  through  Daphne.  He  had  the  most  profound  ad- 
miration for  her.  He  saw  in  her  a  perfect  wife 
for  the  future  Governor — a  helpmate — a  social 
queen. 

He  began  his  skirmishing  cautiously.     He  was  a 


356  The  Road  of  Ambition 

frequent  guest  at  Matthews'  home,  where  Daphne 
had  established  a  salon — a  meeting  place  for  the  Big 
Four  and  their  fellows.  They  accepted  her  invita- 
tions because  in  her  lovely  rooms  they  found  an  un- 
excelled opportunity  to  talk  with  people  who  held 
the  same  views — or  shared  the  same  interests. 
Scarcely  a  night  passed  that  the  great  house  on  the 
hill  was  not  alight — its  door  flung  open  to  a  stream 
of  guests.  Perhaps  half  a  dozen  to  dinner  and  after- 
ward an  occasional  concert — a  song  bird  on  tour — 
a  famous  musician — then  a  comfortable  dividing  up 
into  groups. 

Daphne,  with  her  extraordinary  beauty  and 
charm,  was  eminently  fitted  to  preside  over  her  lit- 
tle court.  If  at  times  she  had  sharp  moments  of  re- 
gret that  the  golden  happiness  which  had  been  theirs 
in  the  hills,  could  not  continue,  she  concealed  it  and 
plunged  anew  into  the  gay  whirl  which  she  knew 
would  further  Bill's  interests. 

Dugan  had  watched  his  man  long  enough.  It  was 
the  best  bet  of  his  life.  Governorship  was  only  a 
step — if  the  man  wanted  to,  he  could  go  higher — 
much  higher.  Nothing  daunted  him,  nothing 
stopped  him — his  conquests  were  colossal — his  prog- 
ress cyclonic! 

It  was  on  a  window-rattling,  wind-whistling  even- 
ing that  Dugan  took  the  first  step  toward  the  con- 
summation of  the  plan  at  which  he  had  hinted  on 
Bethel's  links. 


New  Triumphs  357 

Matthews'  music  room  was  filled  with  men  and 
women  who  had  come  to  hear  a  pianist  play — a 
famous,  much  courted  artist  from  over  the  sea — they 
had  listened  to  his  music  with  polite  interest — they 
were  glad  when  it  was  over  and  they  could  drift  into 
corners — the  men,  smoking  and  laughing — exchang- 
ing stories  of  the  day,  the  women  with  a  group  of 
younger  men  seated  about  the  fire — the  pianist,  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  admirers,  running  his  fing- 
ers lightly  over  the  keys. 

Dugan,  a  cigar  in  the  side  of  his  mouth,  watched 
the  scene  through  half  shut  eyes — watched  it  with 
a  keen  sense  of  appreciation.  Here  was  an  exquisite 
home — ablaze  with  light — fragrant  with  flowers — 
the  center  of  Bethel's  social  and  financial  life.  Its 
hostess  a  creature  radiant,  superb — the  pride  of  race 
in  the  poise  of  her  head — the  tilt  of  her  chin — the 
slenderness  of  her  blue  veined  hands.  Its  host  a  giant 
— steady  of  eye — strong  of  jaw — head  and  shoulder 
above  the  rest — dominating  by  sheer  force  of  his 
personality — a  man  who  had  risen  from  the  people 
— and  fought  every  inch  of  the  way. 

Dugan  smiled  to  himself — that  was  a  fellow  for 
you !  Commanding  respect  from  any  gathering — 
magnetic — simple — four-square.  Dugan  studied 
him.  Bill  was  frowning.  Waiting  impatiently  for 
one  of  his  group  to  finish  a  statement — bound  to  dis- 
agree with  him.  Once  the  man  had  concluded,  Bill 
leaped  in  and  scattered  his  reasoning  to  the  four 


358  The  Road  of  Ambition 

winds,  the  man,  chagrined,  stirred  uncomfortably, 
but  the  others  laugjied  and  nodded  their  heads. 

Dugan  wondered  if  they  really  agreed  with  Bill, 
or  if  his  sweeping  assurance,  that  brooked  no  argu- 
ment, carried  them  along  in  spite  of  themselves. 
Whatever  it  was,  Dugan  admired  it.  It  was  just 
the  quality  he  wished  in  his  man — it  was  so  ex- 
actly what  he  desired  that  he  was  almost  afraid  to 
broach  the  subject.  What  if  Bill  refused?  He  had 
already  seen  Bill  in  the  gubernatorial  chair — heard 
his  inaugural  address.  Who  could  say  that  Dugan, 
the  Practical,  the  Calculating,  was  devoid  of  imagi- 
nation? 

He  sought  Daphne.  He  found  her  the  center  of 
a  lively  discussion.  Graves,  the  new  editor  of  the 
Bethel  Courier,  a  slight,  pale  youth  with  an  air  of 
profound  wisdom,  emphasized  by  the  horn  rimmed 
glasses  he  wore,  was  propounding  his  theory  that 
all  men  were  atoms — a  theory  violently  disputed  by 
the  women,  challenged  by  them.  Graves  clung  tena- 
ciously to  his  point. 

"Read  the  Russian  or  Polish  folk  stories,"  he 
pleaded  in  his  nervous,  high-pitched  voice.  "Joseph 
Conrad — Dostoievsky  or  some  of  the  things  James 
Huneker  has  said  of  them  in  his  latest  reviews — 
there  is  fascinating  mysticism  in  them — the  falling 
of  a  leaf  or  the  crumbling  of  a  dynasty  being  of  equal 
importance." 

They  disagreed  noisily — and  Dugan,  a  smile  on 


New  Triumphs  359 

his  lips,  turned  to  Daphne,  what  had  she  to  say? 
She  was  sitting  close  to  Graves,  her  chin  on  her  hand, 
but  Dugan  saw  that  her  attention  was  wandering, 
once  or  twice  her  glances  stole  to  the  hilarious  group 
of  which  her  husband  was  the  center. 

He  saw  her  eyes  rest  on  him  and  become  suddenly 
tender — he  saw  the  smile  in  them  lighten  to  quick 
eagerness  as  Bill,  catching  sight  of  her  above  the 
heads  of  the  men,  nodded. 

She  turned  back  to  her  own  group  with  a  new  en- 
thusiasm— a  new  spirit.  Dugan  shook  his  head.  If 
the  man  could  do  that  to  his  wife — a  woman  of  such 
spirit  of  pride  as  Daphne — he  could  rule  a  nation. 

He  approached  her.  She  smiled  her  welcome,  and 
they  made  room  for  him,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"It's  off  for  home  I  am,"  he  said,  "but  before  I 
go  will  ye  be  showin'  me  the  picture  ye  promised  to 
last  time  I  was  here?" 

She  knew  she  had  promised  nothing  of  the  sort 
and  that  the  man  before  her  had  something  to  say  to 
her  of  deepest  importance. 

"Indeed  I'll  be  glad  to,"  she  said. 

The  gallery  was  in  semi-darkness  and  Dugan 
begged  her  to  let  it  remain  so. 

"It  won't  be  distractin'  me  mind  from  what  I  have 
to  say." 

She  laughed  and  waited — tingling  with  an  eager- 
ness she  would  not  show — what  could  he  be  plan- 
ning? What  new  triumph  for  Bill? 


360  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Dugan  stroked  his  chin. 

"It's  fishin'  for  an  invite  to  dinner  I  am,"  he 
began,  smiling  at  her.  He  enjoyed  watching  her — 
watching  changes  of  expression  flashing  over  her 
lovely  face — yes — she  was  certainly  the  lady  to  fill 
the  bill. 

"You  can  come  any  time  you  like,"  she  said. 
"You  know  that." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  I  mean  alone — no  table  full 
of  millionaires  to  cut  me  out." 

Then  he  was  suddenly  serious. 

"Your  husband's  been  doin'  big  things,"  he  said. 
She  clasped  her  hands  and  leaned  forward. 

"Indeed  he  has,"  she  nodded.  Dugan  admired 
that  sudden  earnestness — that  ring  of  pride  in  her 
voice.  She  was  the  first  woman  he  had  ever  seen  to 
his  entire  liking.  He  wondered  if  Bill  appreciated 
her. 

"I'd  like  to  see  him  interested  in  politics,"  was  his 
next  move. 

"Politics?"  she  said,  wrinkling  her  forehead. 
''What  sort?" 

He  smiled.  Women,  he  had  found,  unless  trained, 
were  always  vague  along  these  lines.  Politics  spelled 
corruption  to  them — they  abhorred  them — well,  he 
would  soon  put  her  right. 

"I  mean,  I'd  like  to  see  him  governor  of  the  state." 

"Governor !"  she  breathed.  "Bill — gover- 
nor  !" 


New  Triumphs  361 

He  nodded.  "Just  that.  And  what's  more  it's  in 
my  power  to  put  him  there." 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear. 

"Governor !"  she  repeated  softly. 

He  watched  her  delightedly. 

"There's  no  need  to  say  that  ye'll  make  the  finest 
governor's  lady  in  the  cpuntry." 

She  flashed  him  a  smile  for  that,  but  it  was  plain 
that  her  thoughts  were  centered  on  Bill  alone. 

"And  you  think  he  could  get  the  nomination?" 

"Get  it!"  grinned  Dugan.  "Sure,  it's  his  for  the 
askin' — an'  that's  only  one  step,  mind  you.  He's  a 
great  man,  your  husband,  there's  few  like  him,  pullin' 
himself  up  from  nothin'  by  his  own  boot  straps — and 
makin'  the  very  kings  of  finance  sit  up  and  take  no- 
tice. Sure,  he's  a  born  ruler!" 

She  nodded.    "Yes,  he  is,  he  is " 

She  sat  silent  a  long  while — her  eyes  deeply  re- 
flective— but  her  breath  came  swiftly  through  her 
parted  lips. 

"And  may  I  tell  him  what  you  have  said?"  she 
asked  at  length.  He  nodded. 

"Sure,  all  of  it.  It's  for  you  to  persuade  him  if 
it's  hesitatin'  he  is.  Tell  him  Dugan  never  puts  up 
a  man  unless  he's  a  sure  winner,  and  that  he's  the 
one  man  I've  picked  for  the  job." 

She  held  out  her  hand  impulsively. 

"Oh,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you!"     He  laughed. 

"By  makin'  him  say  yes." 


362  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  told  Bill  when  they  were  alone  before  the  fire 
and  he  had  drawn  her  into  his  arms.  He  listened 
gravely  and  when  he  did  not  speak  she  drew  his  face 
close  to  hers  until  he  was  forced  to  meet  her  eyes. 

"Well?"  she  asked,  impatiently.  He  folded  her 
close. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  gravely.  "I  don't 
know " 

"But  you  can,"  she  urged.  "Dugan  says  you're 
just  the  man  for  the  place.  Oh,  Bill,"  she  cried, 
breathlessly,  "I'm  so  proud  of  you !" 

He  smiled  at  her.  "And  so  you  want  me  to  try 
for  it?" 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  she  was  content  to 
feel  the  strength  of  his  arms  about  her,  the  rough- 
ness of  his  coat  brushed  her  cheek — the  rise  and  fall 
of  his  breathing — if  only  he  had  more  time  for  this 
— these  precious  minutes — they  were  few  enough  as 
it  was,  but  if  he  plunged  into  this  new  game — what 
then? 

She  flung  up  her  head.  She  had  said  she  would 
never  hold  him  back — never  for  an  instant! 

"I  want  you  to — you're  made  for  big  things,  Bill 
— and  this  is  one  of  them — yes — yes — I  want  you 
to!" 

"Governor "  he  repeated  slowly,  just  as  she 

had  done — suddenly  he  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her. 

"Little  Snow  Woman,"  he  whispered,  "I  love  you 
— love  you — love  you !" 


New  Triumphs  363 

She  sighed  happily,  but  when  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  she  found  him  staring  into  the  fire — his  cheeks 
flushed. 

"Do  you  remember  the  day  in  the  woods  when 

we "  she  began  softly — then  paused;  his  lips 

were  framing  the  words  again — slowly — almost  rev- 
erently. 

"Governor !"  he  whispered.  "Me — Big  Bill  Mat- 
thews  1" 

She  did  not  interrupt,  but  lay  in  his  arms  watching 
the  play  of  firelight  on  his  face. 

Dugan  received  Bill's  acceptance  with  a  roar  of 
approval. 

"Keep  it  under  our  hat,  though,"  he  cautioned. 
"There  ain't  goin'  to  be  no  slip  up  if  I  can  help  it !" 

It  was  right  there  that  Bill's  course  in  practical 
politics  began — the  a-b-c's  which  Dugan  was  such  a 
past-master  at  teaching.  There  was  a  rich  joy  in 
handling  a  man  of  Bill's  calibre — a  man  so  well 
known  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other — 
no  need  of  cheap  exploitation  for  him — no  need  of 
booming  his  name  in  various  cities — of  appointing 
him  head  of  a  State  Commission  to  enforce  Labor 
Laws — by  Jiminy !  he  had  enforced  them  right  there 
in  Bethel  without  the  faintest  hope  of  nomination — 
that  was  a  record  for  you !  A  man  who  didn't  need 
to  draft  a  bill  to  become  famous ! 

Dugan  chuckled  to  himself  and  confided  in 
Loomis.  "They'll  be  so  dumfounded  when  his 


364  The  Road  of  Ambition 

name  goes  up  that  they'll  pass  him  cold  on  the  first 
ballot — but  I  bet  me  new  hat  he'll  get  in  on  the  sec- 
ond! An'  say,  when  he  pitches  into  them  soulless 
corporations  and  tries  to  make  'em  come  across 
with  the  system  he's  put  into  Bethel  Steel,  the  pub- 
lic'll  go  batty!  People's  governor — that's  what 
he'll  be — he  ain't  only  talkin'  practical  politics — he's 
livin'  them." 

No,  Dugan  had  no  fears  as  to  the  outcome  and 
Bill,  carried  along  on  a  new  wave  of  enthusiasm  that 
swept  him  forward  at  a  high  speed,  found  less  and 
less  time  to  be  alone  with  Daphne.  He  was  not  con- 
scious of  it — indeed,  he  would  have  denied  it  hotly — 
he  would  have  declared  they  were  together  evenings 
— but  he  forgot  that  the  evenings  were  full  confer- 
ences behind  closed  doors — Benson  reporting  on  the 
new  locomotive  cranes  with  their  lifting  magnet — 
computing  the  saving  in  handling  scrap — the  rapid- 
ity with  which  it  was  worked — Mack  discussing  cases 
of  workmen's  widows — presenting  an  estimate  of  al- 
lowances necessary  to  them  in  order  to  keep  their 
families  intact — Pattison  noisily  announcing  he  had 
secured  an  option  on  a  barge  in  Seattle — or  a  dead 
weight  cargo  steamer — figuring  the  cubic  cargo  ca- 
pacity— the  number  of  hatches — the  size  of  tanks 
for  oil  storage. 

Details  that  forced  themselves  upon  his  attention 
— that  must  be  cleaned  up — and  Daphne,  her  eyes 
on  the  hearthstone,  prayed  it  might  some  day  be 


New  Triumphs  365 

over — prayed  he  might  have  his  fill  of  the  grinding 
work  which  raised  a  barrier  between  them — that  he 
might  again  live  for  her  alone  as  he  had  in  those 
poignantly  sweet  days  in  the  hills.  But  she  did  not 
speak  of  her  hopes.  She  did  not  breathe  them  aloud. 
Instead,  she  watched  over  him — aided  him  where 
she  could — enlarged  his  circle  of  friends — made 
peace  with  his  enemies — smoothed  his  path  in  a  hun- 
dred little  ways — and  when  he  wanted  her,  was 
ready  to  go  to  him  at  a  moment's  notice. 

The  winter  slipped  into  spring,  and  the  new  dan- 
ger, still  but  a  whisper — the  danger  of  a  ruthless 
submarine  warfare — whipped  Bill  to  new  energy. 

"Get  small  calibre  guns,"  was  his  command. 
"Have  them  ready  to  mount.  Get  the  fleet  into 
shape  so  that  we  can  mobilize  into  a  trade  navy 
for  coast  defence.  If  these  old  tubs  can't  do  any- 
thing else,  they  can  lay  and  sweep  mines.  Won't 
wait  until  we  need  them — we'll  be  ready  aheaH  of 
time!" 

The  Bethel  Courier  announced  his  policy  and  the 
news  was  snapped  up  by  the  papers  of  the  nation-r- 
here  was  a  man  who  believed  in  preparedness — prac- 
tical preparedness — who  neither  paraded  nor  orated 
— who  acted.  The  result  was  that  a  host  of  indi- 
viduals offered  the  government  their  motor  boats 
and  yachts  for  defense  in  event  of  hostilities. 

Dugan  read,  and  reading,  sat  back  and  rubbed  his 
hands  together. 


366  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Good  boy  I"  he  grinned.  'That's  the  stuff.  You 
couldn't  do  better  if  you  tried!" 

On  a  soft  morning — with  a  haze  of  green  on  the 
treetops  and  a  whisper  of  summer  in  the  air,  Daphne 
sought  Bill  in  his  office.  Mack  grinned  at  her  and 
waved  his  hand  at  the  waiting  men,  but  she  would 
not  be  put  aside. 

"I'm  going  to  see  him,"  she  insisted  and  followed 
Mack  to  Bill's  door.  Bill,  behind  a  pile  of  docu- 
ments, looked  up  with  a  frown  of  impatience. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you "  he  began,  then  as  he  saw 

her,  he  smiled.  "Oh,  well,  if  it's  you "  Mack 

closed  the  door  behind  them  and  she  ran  to  him. 

"Bill,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "I've  a  splendid  plan — 
it  came  to  me  this  morning  when  I  woke  up  and 
found  the  sun  pouring  through  my  window.  You've 
been  working  too  hard  and  so  I've  come  to — to  run 
away  with  you: — to  make  you  take  a  holiday — I've 
got  the  new  car  at  the  door  and " 

He  laughed  at  her  as  he  drew  her  into  his  arms. 

"Run  away!  It's  spring  fever,  dearest;  the  far- 
thest I'll  run  will  be  from  here  to  the  club  for  lunch 
and  back." 

She  sighed  in  his  arms,  the  eager  light  in  her 
eyes  fading. 

"Just  for  a  little  while,  then — a  few  hours — it 
wouldn't  matter " 

He  kissed  her,  and  his  smile  held  a  gentle  toler- 
ance. 


New  Triumphs  367 

"Think  of  planning  to  kidnap  me  when  there  are 
two  conferences  slated  for  this  afternoon,  beside  a 
dozen  men  waiting  to  see  me  by  appointment." 

Suddenly  he  caught  her  to  him — did  she  feel  well? 
She  was  a  bit  pale — why  not  see  the  doctor — why 
not  run  away  for  a  few  days  ? 

"I'd  rather  not,"  she  said.     "Unless  you  go  too." 

"No  chance,"  he  laughed.  She  slipped  from  his 
arms  and  arose. 

"You'll  be  home  early,  won't  you?  You  remem- 
ber it's  the  theatre  tonight." 

He  was  already  attacking  the  pile  of  papers  be- 
fore him. 

"If  I  can — Mack  will  let  you  know." 

She  left  him,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  and  a  smile 
of  tenderness  as  he  thought  of  her  warm  arms  about 
his  neck — her  cheek  against  his — he  plunged  anew 
into  work. 

He  cleared  up  the  pile  before  him,  and  pressed  a 
button.  Davis,  his  secretary,  appeared  and  Bill 
nodded  to  him. 

"Let  Thomas  come  in,"  he  commanded,  then 
paused  as  the  telephone  tinkled  at  his  elbow.  Davis 
lifted  the  receiver,  spoke,  and  turned  to  Bill,  cover- 
ing the  mouthpiece  with  his  hand. 

"It's  a  lady,  sir.  She  says  she  wants  to  speak  with 
you." 

"Name?"  snapped  Bill,  glancing  up  for  an  instant 
from  his  papers.  Davis  inquired,  then  turned  back. 


368  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"She  won't  give  it  to  me,  sir;  says  she  must  speak 
to  you  alone." 

Suddenly  Bill  laughed.  "It's  Mrs.  Matthews — 
she's  probably  forgotten  to  tell  me  something." 

He  took  the  instrument  from  Davis,  a  smile  still 
on  his  lips. 

"Well  ?"  he  inquired,  "what's  up  ?"  Then  he  stif- 
fened suddenly — his  face  set  in  stern  lines — as  a 
voice  reached  him : 

"I  knew  you'd  answer.  I've  something  I  want  to 
ask  you — something  very  important — oh,  but  first 
of  all,  do  you  know  who  I  am?" 

He  did  not  reply  for  a  moment — he  couldn't — 
but  he  knew  in  a  flash  that  it  was  May  Lara- 
bee.  . 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

MAY   LARABEE   TURNS   A  TRICK 

"DILL  waved  his  hand  to  Davis.  "I'll  ring  when  I 
•*•*  want  you,"  and  turned  back  to  the  telephone. 
"Yes,"  he  said  shortly,  "I  know." 

She  hurried  on.  "I'm  here  in  Bethel — at  the  Inn 
— I  want  to  see  you — I'm  in  trouble,  Bill — in  a 
dreadful  fix  and  I  don't  know  which  way  to  turn.  I 
simply  had  to  ring  you  up ;  you  will  forgive  me,  won't 
you?" 

He  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts — to  ask  her  when 
she  had  returned — what  she  was  doing  there — to 
remember  she  was  a  calculating  woman  who  had 
almost  wrecked  his  life — but  at  the  note  of  pleading 
in  her  voice — at  the  appeal  for  help,  he  weakened. 

"If  there  is  anything  I  can  advise  you  about " 

he  began,  and  she  broke  in  eagerly: 

"Oh,  how  good  you  are!  But  then  that's  like 
you.  Shall  I  come  to  your  office?  Or — no,  I  think 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  drop  in  on  me  here, 
wouldn't  it?  I'll  do  whatever  you  say." 

He  tried  to  plan  quickly,  but  the  suddenness  with 
which  she  flung  her  suggestions  at  him,  left  him  con- 
fused. She  was  talking  animatedly.  "Suppose  we 
369 


370  The  Road  of  Ambition 

say  here,  then.  You  can  stop  in  on  your  way  home. 
I'll  be  in  the  reading  room.  Bill,  you  know  I  should 
never  ask  you  to  come  unless  I  really  needed  you — 
you  understand,  don't  you?" 

He  tried  to  put  her  off — to  think  of  an  adequate 
excuse,  but  before  he  had  framed  the  words,  her 
bright,  "Thank  you  a  thousand  times — I'll  be  wait- 
ing!" reached  him,  with  a  click  that  told  him  she 
had  rung  off. 

The  instant  she  had  gone,  he  regretted  his  impul- 
siveness. What  right  had  she  to  expect  his  help — 
to  appeal  to  his  pity — she  had  forfeited  all  claim 
to  it,  when  she  had  shown  her  true  colors.  He  called 
Bethel  Inn,  and  asked  for  her,  but  the  clerk  informed 
him  she  had  gone  out  directly  after  telephoning. 
No,  he  was  sorry,  but  no  one  knew  where,  and  Bill 
hung  up  angrily. 

All  day  he  fought  the  irritation  that  beset  him, 
endeavoring  in  vain  to  banish  the  thought  that  she 
would  be  waiting  for  him — that  he  had  practically 
promised  to  meet  her.  Why  hadn't  he  told  her  up 
and  down  he  would  not  see  her?  Why  .  .  . 

The  conferences  lasted  until  late — he  had  scarcely 
time  to  fling  a  command  to  Mack,  "Get  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews on  the  wire.  Tell  her  not  to  wait  dinner.  I'll 
meet  her  at  the  show." 

It  was  after  seven  when  the  last  appointment  was 
fulfilled — when  he  donned  his  hat  and  bid  Mack  a 
curt  good  night.  His  car  stood  at  the  door,  but  he 


May  Larabee  Turns  a  Trick      371 

dismissed  it  and  told  himself  he  wanted  to  walk. 
He  knew  what  he  really  wished  was  to  fence  for 
time — to  give  himself  an  opportunity  to  plan  for  the 
coming  interview. 

He  was  glad  it  was  so  late.  The  chances  were 
that  May  had  tired  of  waiting  and  had  gone  else- 
where for  help.  He  hoped  so.  That  would  let  him 
out,  still  since  he  had  offered  his  help  he  must  make 
some  sort  of  an  attempt  to  see  her. 

He  felt  better  after  his  brisk  walk  through  the 
soft  twilight.  May  seemed  less  of  a  problem.  After 
all,  it  was  natural  she  should  turn  to  him — there  was 
no  harm  in  finding  out  what  it  was  she  wanted. 

He  entered  the  brilliantly  lighted  lobby  of  Bethel 
Inn,  nodded  to  a  group  of  men  and  women  he  knew, 
and  strolled  past  them  to  the  reading  room.  If  she 
were  not  there  he  could  leave  at  once.  He  would 
then  have  done  his  part — fulfilled  his  contract.  Next 
time  she  rang  up  he  would  have  Davis  tell  her  he 
was  out — or  busy.  .  .  . 

He  entered  the  long  room,  with  its  subdued  lights 
and  soft  rugs.  For  a  minute  his  eyes,  unaccustomed 
to  the  dim  glow,  could  not  distinguish  its  occupants, 
but  once  used  to  the  semi-darkness  he  saw  May,  and 
beside  her  a  man — there  was  no  mistaking  him — it 
was  Phil.  He  drew  back,  endeavoring  to  escape — 
furious  that  she  should  have  appealed  to  him,  when 
she  so  obviously  had  others  to  turn  to,  but  before  he 
could  go,  she  saw  him  and  hurried  toward  him. 


372  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"I  knew  you'd  come !"  she  cried. 

He  greeted  her  stiffly  and  she  flashed  a  smile  af 
Phil. 

"How  lucky  you  happened  in  here — I  should  have 
had  a  long  wait  alone."  Bill  met  Colt's  frank  stare, 
and  acknowledged  his,  "I  haven't  seen  you  for  some 
time,  Matthews,"  with  a  short  bow.  It  was  true, 
since  the  days  in  the  shack  he  and  Phil  had  not  ex- 
changed a  dozen  words.  There  was  a  short  silence, 
then  Phil  straightened  up.  "Well,  I'll  be  trotting 
a'long,"  he  said.  She  did  not  try  to  keep  him,  in- 
deed, she  seemed  relieved  when  he  had  gone.  She 
turned  to  Bill,  eagerly. 

"Shall  we  sit  down?"  He  followed  her  to  a 
couch,  in  a  dim  corner,  and  waited.  She  leaned  to- 
ward him. 

"Bill,  I  hated  to  call  you  up — I  hated  to  send  for 
you — but  I  had  to — I  simply  had  to — there's  no  one 
else  I  could  ask — no  one  in  the  world." 

She  waited — watching  him  closely,  through  half 
closed  lids.  He  cleared  his  throat. 

"If  there  is  anything  I  can  do — I  shall,  of  course, 
be  glad  to  do  it,  but  why  not  ask  Colt — he " 

"Oh,  Phil "  she  cried,  shrugging.  "He's  no 

friend — he  never  has  been — we  just  happened  to 
meet  in  here  tonight.  Phil  can't  advise  me — no  one 
can  but  you." 

He  knew  that  soft  note  in  her  voice — he  had  often 
thrilled  to  it — now  he  stiffened — his  face  set. 


May  Larabee  Turns  a  Trick      373 
"Perhaps  you'd  better  tell  me  about  it- 


She  sighed  and  clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap  and 
allowed  her  shoulders  to  droop  with  a  suggestion  of 
fatigue. 

"It's  money,"  she  said,  plaintively.  "You  know 
you  gave  me  plenty — much  more  than  I  deserved — 
oh,  how  I've  hated  myself  for  those  dreadful  words 
you  heard  me  say — but  when  I  read  that  you  had 
married  Daphne  I  was  glad — yes,  I  was — I  knew 
she'd  make  a  far  better  wife  for  you  than  I.  So 
Monty  and  I  went  away — and  he  gambled — I 
couldn't  stop  him — I  didn't  even  try  to — I  was  so 
broken  up — you  know,  Bill,  a  woman  can't  get  over 
these  things  all  at  once — and  I  didn't  notice  that  the 

money  was  going — until — until "  she  stopped  to 

fumble  for  her  handkerchief.  Bill  watched  her  with 
a  cynical  admiration — how  dramatically  she  carried 
it  off — always  a  consummate  actress — even  this 
pause  was  effective — heightening  the  suspense — 
"until  I  found  that  I  had  overdrawn!  Think  of  it, 
Bill — all  the  money  you  gave  me  gone !  and  I  haven't 
a  penny  left  except  the  little  drop  that  comes  from 
the  estate.  ...  I  must  manage  to  live  on  that  for 
the  rest  of  my  life!" 

She  stopped  altogether.  He  stirred  uncomfort- 
ably— she  was  waiting  for  him  to  say  something — 
anything. 

"And  what  is  it  you  want  my  advice  about?" 

"Just  this — what  can  I  do  with  the  bit  I  have  left? 


374  The  Road  of  Ambition 

I  must  enlarge  it — you  see  that — don't  you? 
I  wouldn't  ask  you  this  unless  I  were  desperate — but 
you  spoiled  me — gave  me  a  taste  of  the  good  things 
of  life — clothes — travel — everything — and  I  can't 
bear — I  simply  can't  bear  to  be  respectably  poor 
after  that — and  that's  what  I  am  now — respectably 
poor — I'd — I'd  rather  lose  all — every  penny — in  a 
gamble — than  struggle  along  this  way — I'd  rather 
take  a  chance  to  be  rich  than  go  on  knowing  I  can 
never  afford  another  suit  like  this — or  hats  or 
furs." 

He  was  sure  she  was  not  acting  now — there  was 
a  ring  of  sincerity  in  her  voice  which  one  could  not 
mistake.  With  all  her  luxury-loving  soul,  she  ab- 
horred the  genteel  poverty  to  which  she  had  once 
more  returned.  He  doubted  her  story  of  Monty's 
gambling — she  had  probably  squandered  the  money 
on  clothes — but  whatever  had  happened  she  was 
heartily  sick  of  it.  All  at  once  he  felt  sorry  for 
her — after  all,  her  temper  was  an  inherited  affair — 
she  was  not  entirely  responsible  for  its  unleashing. 
He  thought  of  her  as  he  had  known  her — her  tiny 
self  clad  in  filmy  clinging  silks — her  little  arched  feet 
thrust  into  absurdly  extravagant  slippers — her 
rooms  always  heavy  with  the  perfume  of  flowers. 

She  saw  the  softening  in  his  eyes  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak. 

"Better  buy  Bethel  Steel,"  he  said  crisply;  "it 
ought  to  go  up."  She  clasped  her  hands. 


May  Larabee  Turns  a  Trick      375 

"Oh — I  shall — I  shall — but  isn't  there  some — 
some  less  widely  known  stock  that  you  hold — where 
I  can  get  in  on  the  ground  floor — something  good 
which  I  can  be  sure  of?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Nothing  else  I  know  of — I  never  go  in  for  the 
war  babies — steer  clear  of  them.  Bethel  Steel  is 
safe,  though,  that's  why  I've  put  all  my  money  in  it — 
unless  you  want  some  shares  of  Transatlantic — those 
two  are  sound  investments." 

She  nodded.  "That  Transatlantic's  yours,  isn't 
it?  You  started  it — built  it  up.  Oh,  Bill!  what 
things  you  have  accomplished  since  first  we  met!" 

He  did  not  answer.  He  would  not  respond  to 
the  chord  of  sentimentality  she  was  striking.  He 
rose. 

"If  you  want  to  get  in  on  Bethel,  drop  a  line  about 
it  and  I'll  have  Hanlon,  my  broker,  buy  it  for  you. 
However,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  leave  the  money  just 
where  it  is — even  the  best  tip  is  only  a  gamble." 

She  had  risen  too  and  was  facing  him,  her  hands 
clasped. 

"You  understand  my  sending  for  you — don't  you? 
I  haven't  a  soul  to  turn  to — no  one  who  cares — and 
you  are  such  a  wizard — such  a  prince  of — of  finance 
that  I  could  not  resist  consulting  you — forgive  me, 
won't  you?  And  let  me  thank  you." 

He  bowed.  "Remember,  I'm  merely  suggesting 
an  investment,  you  can  do  as  you  please  about  it; 


376  The  Road  of  Ambition 

personally,  I  believe  in  letting  well  enough  alone." 
She  shook  her  head.  "No — no — I'd  rather  lose 
all,  I  tell  you."  She  stopped  short  and  studied  him 
a  minute,  her  head  on  one  side.  "You've  changed, 
Bill.  I  scarcely  knew  you.  You're  so  sure  of  your- 
self— so  strong."  Then  she  held  out  her  hand, 
"Well,  I  mustn't  keep  you,  must  I?  Goodbye  and 
thank  you." 

When  she  was  sure  he  had  gone,  she  hastened  to 
a  telephone  booth,  and  called  a  number.  After  a 
time  a  voice  answered. 

"Is  that  you,  Phil?"  she  asked.  Then  she  spoke 
softly,  almost  as  though  she  were  afraid  someone 
might  overhear.  "Yes,  I  got  him  talking — no — he 
didn't  suspect  a  thing — not  a  thing — tell  your  father 
all  his  money's  in  Bethel  Steel  and  Transatlantic. 
What?  Yes,  I'm  sure — positive — you  don't  need 

to — I'm  glad  of  the  chance Yes,  goodbye,"  and 

she  hung  up  slowly,  a  little  smile  still  on  her  lips. 

Daphne  set  out  for  the  theatre  alone.  Bethel's 
playhouse  was  a  gorgeous  affair — its  facade  of  white 
marble.  It  occupied  a  place  of  prominence  on  Main 
Street's  busiest  corner.  All  the  hits  of  the  great 
cities  sent  their  best  road  companies  there.  It  was 
a  favorite  stand — a  colony  of  millionaires. 

The  play  on  the  boards  was  a  popular  farce — an 
amusing  thing  which  Bethel  flocked  to  see.  Daphne 


May  Larabee  Turns  a  Trick      377 

entered  the  crowded  lobby,  glanced  about  at  the  sea 
of  friendly  faces,  and  wished  she  might  have  re- 
mained at  home — feeling  all  at  once  strangely  alone. 
Why  wasn't  Bill  there  with  her?  Why  couldn't  he 
tear  himself  away  from  his  work  as  well  as  other 
men? 

She  caught  sight  of  Pattison  and  his  wife — true, 
his  eyes  were  wandering  gleefully  over  the  crowd  in 
search  of  a  more  agreeable  companion — but  he  was 
at  least  there.  She  saw  Decker  edging  his  way  ner- 
vously to  the  box  office,  and  Rogers — distinguished 
looking — shoulders  flung  back,  chin  up,  with  Rosalie, 
a  dream  in  rose,  clinging  to  his  arm.  Yes,  they  were 
busy  men,  all  of  them,  but  they  managed  to  find  time 
to  be  on  hand  with  their  wives  and  families  before 
the  curtain  rose. 

"What !  Not  alone !"  She  turned,  a  flame  of  red 
sweeping  into  her  cheeks  as  she  beheld  Phil  Colt. 
She  resented  his  tone,  his  manner,  his  smile,  and 
nodded  to  him  curtly.  But  he  remained  at  her  side. 

"I  shouldn't  think  your  husband  would  let  you 
prowl  about  the  streets  of  Bethel  at  night — I 
wouldn't." 

She  answered  coldly,  "I  wanted  to  start  ahead.  I 
hate  to  miss  the  opening.  He's  coming  later." 

Phil  smiled.  "Funny,  I  ran  into  him  not  so  long 
ago." 

She  did  not  reply,  so  he  went  on;  "Up  at  the  Inn 
— in  the  reading  room." 


378  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Reading  room?"  she  said,  puzzled.  "Oh,  I 
think  not.  You  must  have  mistaken  someone  else 
for  him."  Phil  admitted  that  readily.  "I  might 
have  thought  so,  if  I  hadn't  chatted  with  him,  but  I 
didn't  stay  long.  I  saw  he  and  Mrs.  Larabee  had 
something  to  say  to  each  other,  so  I " 

"Mrs.  Larabee!"  cried  Daphne,  before  she  could 
collect  herself. 

Phil  nodded.  "Yes.  May  said  she  was  expecting 
him — or  maybe  I'm  wrong — I  don't  know — at  any 
rate,  it  seems  nice  to  have  her  back  here  again. 
She's  a  good  sort." 

Daphne  drew  herself  up.  "I  remember  now," 
she  said;  "he  told  me  something  about  it — that's 
why  he's  late." 

"Shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Phil. 

She  sat  tensely  in  her  seat — eyes  straight  ahead — 
her  lip  caught  between  her  teeth.  May  Larabee! 
What  could  he  have  to  see  her  about? — to  meet  her 
by  appointment?  May  Larabee.  Then  she 
shrugged.  After  all,  he  would  explain.  They  had 
probably  met  by  accident — but  that  did  not  satisfy 
her — no.  Phil  had  said  the  reading  room.  One 
never  went  there  unless  for  a  purpose.  May  Lara- 
bee!  the  woman  he  had  come  within  an  ace  of  mar- 
rying! She  clenched  her  hands.  What  if  he  cared 
for  her  still !  Then  she  relaxed  with  a  laugh.  Non- 
sense !  He  was  hers — all  hers !  She  knew  that. 


May  Larabee  Turns  a  Trick      379 

The  curtain  had  risen.  The  farce  was  in  full 
swing.  The  audience  rocked  with  laughter,  but 
Daphne  sat  rigid — white.  Toward  the  end  of  the 
act,  Bill  came.  He  dropped  beside  her  with  a  whis- 
per: 

"Sorry  as  the  dickens,  but  held  up  on  all  sides." 

She  nodded  understandingly,  a  warm  glow  about 
her  heart  now  that  he  was  there,  and  she  felt  his 
shoulder  against  hers.  She  slipped  her  hand  into  his 
and  he  smiled  as  his  fingers  closed  over  it. 

When  the  lights  flared  again,  he  left  her — had 
something  to  say  to  Pattison — would  be  back  di- 
rectly. She  told  herself  she  could  not  expect  him  to 
explain  then,  but  when  they  reached  home.  .  .  . 

After  the  performance,  Rogers  insisted  upon  their 
joining  a  party  bound  for  the  Club  House.  He 
promised  a  supper  fit  for  a  king.  Bill  was  eager  to 
go.  She  saw  it.  He  had  cast  aside  the  day's  anxiety 
and  was  entering  into  the  gayety  of  the  evening  like 
a  boy.  She  went  gladly  for  his  sake. 

It  was  late  when  they  reached  home.  She  waited 
for  him  on  the  stairs,  and  they  mounted  together,  his 
arm  about  her.  When  they  reached  her  little  sitting 
room,  she  turned,  expectantly — now  he  would  tell 
her  all  about  it!  But  he  suppressed  a  yawn  and 
smiled  at  her. 

"Be  glad  to  turn  in,"  he  said.  "Big  day  ahead  of 
me." 

She  stared  at  him  with  quick  alarm.    Was  it  pos- 


380  The  Road  of  Ambition 

sible  he  would  say  nothing?  She  determined  to 
help  him. 

"Can't  you  tell  me  what  you've  done  today?" 

He  took  her  face  in  his  hands  and  gazed  into  her 
eyes. 

"I've  worked  for  you,  Little  Snow  Woman,"  he 
said,  smiling,  "and  now  I'm  going  to  get  my  well 
earned  repose.  Don't  make  me  talk  shop  at  two 
A.  M.,  will  you?" 

She  drew  back  suddenly.  "No,"  she  said  slowly, 
"if  you've  nothing  special  to  tell  me." 

"Nothing,"  he  laughed,  gathering  her  into  his 
arms,  "except  that  you  are  the  most  wonderful 
woman  in  the  world!" 

Long  after  he  slept,  she  lay  wide-eyed — tense — 
her  hands  clenched  at  her  side.  May  Larabee — 
what  if  he  preferred  her? — wished  he  had  married 
her  instead?  Daphne  drew  a  quick  breath.  Well, 
if  she  ever  found  he  did  not  want  her — need  her — 

if  she  ever  found  she  hindered  him Then  she 

closed  her  eyes.  "I  couldn't  leave  him!"  she  cried 
with  a  sob,  "I  couldn't " 


CHAPTER  XXX 

FRIENDS    FROM   THE    PAST 

Transatlantic  prospered — prospered  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  golden  promises  held  out 
by  even  its  most  optimistic  promoters.  "It's  Mat- 
thews' luck !"  they  cried — and  as  though  to  affirm  the 
report,  Bethel  Steel  rose  steadily — its  contracts  so 
enormous  that  it  was  forced  to  borrow  huge  sums  to 
fulfill  them. 

Red  hot  days  those — midsummer,  but  not  even 
the  blistering  sky  overhead — nor  the  heat  mists  that 
wavered  up  from  the  pavements  could  stem  the  stag- 
gering load  of  work  that  fell  on  Bill's  shoulders. 
He  carried  it  with  an  ease — a  supreme  confidence 
which  left  his  fellows  amazed,  incredulous.  Dugan, 
standing  behind,  watched  him  with  anxious  eyes. 

"You're  puttin'  over  big  things,  Bill,  me  boy," 
he  said,  "but  go  easy — this  weather  ain't  fit  for  a  dog 
to  wag  his  tail  in — save  yourself — we'll  be  needin' 
ye  whole  this  fall!" 

And  Bill,  grinning  at  him,  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  his  forehead.  "This  isn't  work,  you  old 
croaker — it's  fun !  And  you'd  better  clear  out  and 
let  me  tackle  it  before  I  throw  you  outl" 


382  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Down  at  his  desk  by  nine  in  the  morning  and  there 
until  late  at  night,  he  shouldered  his  way  through  a 
mass  of  work  that  would  have  snowed  under  another 
man.  He  revelled  in  it.  This  was  the  joy  of  life 
raised  to  the  nth  power.  You  saw  things  grow — 
develop  under  your  very  eyes — felt  the  pulse  of  a 
country  under  your  fingers — always  something  new 
to  do — something  bigger!  Dugan  wanted  a  candi- 
date with  a  record  behind  him.  Well,  by  heaven! 
he'd  have  one  worthy  the  name !  And  when  he  was 
governor — governor  .  .  .  here  the  blood  would 
pound  through  his  veins — and  his  muscles  knot. 
He'd  show  them! 

He  saw  Daphne  only  at  moments — moments  in 
the  morning,  before  he  swallowed  his  coffee  and 
jumped  into  his  car — interrupted  moments  to  be 
sure,  for  the  newspaper  must  be  skimmed — the  con- 
dition of  the  blockade — the  news  from  Washington 
— the  outlook  on  the  Street  for  the  day — ascertained 
before  reaching  the  office. 

Daphne  understood — he  was  not  afraid  of  that. 
But  he  did  not  like  her  paleness — the  shadows  be- 
neath her  eyes.  He  wished  she  would  run  away  into 
the  hills  and  escape  Bethel's  heat. 

"Why  not  take  Benson's  shack — perhaps  I  can 
get  up  there  for  a  week  end." 

But  she  told  him  quietly  she  preferred  to  stay — 
that  she  was  all  right — that  he  must  not  worry  about 
her.  And  he  didn't.  He  had  no  time  to  just  then. 


Friends  from  the  Past  383 

When  he  returned  home  at  nights — when  at 
length  he  dropped  the  yoke  of  labor — he  was  too 
tired  to  talk.  Often  he  fell  asleep  in  his  chair — but 
there  were  other  nights  when  there  was  figuring  to 
do — when  he  would  carry  his  records  off  to  his  room 
and  pour  over  the  long  columns  of  unintelligible 
numbers,  which  pleased  or  angered  him  as  it  hap- 
pened. 

There  were'times,  when  conscious  of  her  presence, 
when  feeling  her  eyes  upon  him  from  the  doorway, 
he  would  glance  up  to  find  her  there — a  soft  gown 
emphasizing  her  slenderness — her  hair  over  her 
shoulder  in  two  long  braids. 

"You  up?"  he  would  say,  his  finger  on  the  place. 
"Better  get  your  beauty  sleep,  hadn't  you,  dear? 
Don't  fret  about  me,  though.  I've  got  to  work  this 
thing  out.  I'll  turn  in  soon." 

One  night  when  she  seemed  more  frail — more 
flower-like  than  usual,  she  broke  down. 

"Bill!"  she  cried,  her  voice  full  of  wild  longing, 
"Bill,  can't  you  see  you're  not  living — can't  you  see 
that  all  this — this  slavery  is  drying  up  your  heart — 
your  soul?" 

He  had  looked  up  at  her,  startled,  and  because  he 
saw  tears  in  her  eyes,  he  pushed  his  papers  aside  and 
caught  her  to  him. 

"Nonsense,"  he  cried.  "You're  tired — or  you 
wouldn't  speak  that  way — why,  this  is  life,  Daphne 
— all  that  I'm  doing  and  trying  to  do — it's  creating, 


384  The  Road  of  Ambition 

isn't  it?  What  else  is  there  to  life?  You  wouldn't 
have  me  a  dreamer,  would  you?  I  won't  be  as  hard 
at  it  as  this  for  long — I'll  be  through  the  worst  part 
of  it  soon,  then  we  can  run  off  together — next  month, 
perhaps — or  maybe  sooner." 

But  he  didn't,  for  the  work  piled  up — the  great 
pressure  continued,  and  Daphne,  lying  awake  night 
after  night,  stared  into  the  blackness. 

"He  doesn't  care  for  me.  He  doesn't  need  me," 
she  would  repeat  dully  again  and  again — until  the 
words  became  meaningless  and  sleep  came. 

It  was  on  a  day  of  colossal  work  that  Mack 

stumbled  into  Bill's  office  unheralded.    Gray,  of  the 

Interstate  Commerce,  was  in  the  midst  of  a  wordy 

discussion  when  the  door  opened.     Bill  looked  up 

sharply.     He  saw  that  Mack  was  unusually  stirred. 

"Well?"  snapped  Bill.     "What  is  it?" 

Mack  rubbed  his  hands.     "I  thought  you  was 

through,  sir.     I  thought  the  gentleman  had  gone, 

so    I    came   to   tell   you    there's    someone    to    see 

"Ask  him  to  wait — unless  it's  Mr.  Pattison " 

"No,  it  ain't  him,  sir,  it's — it's — an  old  friend." 
Gray's  lips  were  set  in  a  smile,  but  his  foot  tapped 
impatiently  and  he  half  drew  out  his  watch.     Bill, 
on  edge,  sensing  his  restlessness,  turned  on  Mack. 
"Whoever  it  is,  keep  him  away.    You  know  bet- 
ter than  to  break  in  on  me  this  way." 


Friends  from  the  Past  385 

Mack's  smile  vanished.  He  nodded  and  fumbled 
tor  the  door  handle.  There  was  something  so  for- 
lorn about  the  droop  of  his  thin  shoulders,  that  Bill 
was  moved. 

"Wait.     Who  is  it?" 

Mack  turned.    "It's  Tony  Dufrano,  sir." 

"Tony!"  shouted  Bill,  a  ring  of  eagerness  in  his 
voice.  "Well,  well!"  Then  recalling  himself,  he 
changed  his  tone.  "Take  him  into  the  directors' 
room  and  ask  him  to  wait." 

Mack  grinned.  "I  knowed  you'd  want  to  see 
him!"  he  said. 

After  Gray  had  gone,  Bill  rose  quickly  and  smiled 
to  himself.  So  Tony  had  come  from  out  the  past. 
What  a  life  time  it  seemed  since  the  old  days! — 
since  he  had  climbed  from  Factory  Street  to  the  hill- 
top. What  a  full  life  he  had  lived  since  then ! 

In  the  directors'  room  he  found  a  tall,  pale  youth, 
fumbling  his  hat  in  nervous  hands. 

"Tony!"  he  cried,  his  hand  outstretched.  "It's 
good  to  see  you  again !" 

Tony  took  his  hand  shyly  and  dropped  it  quickly. 
He  seemed  miserably  ill  at  ease — painfully  conscious 
of  his  shabby  suit — his  frayed  cuffs. 

"Why  haven't  you  been  here  before?" 

Tony  swallowed;  he  was  evidently  struggling  for 
the  proper  form  of  address. 

"I  wanted  to,  Mr.  Matthews — but " 


386  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Bill  laughed.  "My  name's  still  the  same — did 
you  think  that  had  changed,  too?" 

Tony  shook  his  head.  "No,  sir.  Nedda  said  for 
me  to  call  you  Bill  like  I  used  to — but — but  when 
I  seen  you — I  couldn't — I  just  couldn't." 

Bill  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "Nedda 
was  right — she  always  was,  as  I  remember.  Now 
tell  me  all  about  her  and  about  yourself — and,  oh 
yes,  and  about  little  Miss  M'Farlane  who  used  to 
darn  my  socks." 

Tony  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  chair.  "There  ain't 
much  to  tell.  She's  dead — bronchitis  got  her. 
Nedda,  she  nursed  her,  but  it  wasn't  no  good." 

"Start  from  the  beginning,  Tony.  What  happened 
after  I  left?" 

"Nothin',  only  I  took  sick  and  they  turned  me  off 
at  the  Works.  I  guess  Mack  told  you." 

Bill  nodded.  "I  wanted  to  find  you  when  I  came 
back  here,  but  no  one  knew  where  you  had  gone." 

"Nobody  cared.  I  couldn't  get  a  job  in  Bethel, 
so  we  sold  the  things  you  give  Nedda — only  she 
didn't  want  to— and  went  away." 

"But  why  didn't  you  write  me — you  heard  I'd 
come  back." 

"Sure.  Nedda  cuts  out  all  about  you  in  the  pa- 
pers— she  reads  'em  to  me  sometimes,  but  she  didn't 
want  to  let  you  know  how  bad  off  we  was — 'he'll 
have  so  many  folks  askin'  for  help,  we  ain't  a-goin' 
to  bother  him,'  she'd  say." 


Friends  from  the  Past  387 

"She  shouldn't  have  felt  that  way,"  said  Bill. 
"She  was  my  little  sister — my  friend — my  pal." 

Tony  shrugged.  "I  wanted  to  ask  you,  but  she 
said  no — she  wouldn't  a-given  in  yet  only  her  eyes've 
gone  back  on  her." 

"Eyes,"  Bill  caught  up  sharply.  "You  don't 
mean " 

"Oh,  she  ain't  blind,  or  nothin' — but  she  can't  sew 
no  more  for  a  while,  and  I  couldn't  make  enough 
for  both  of  us,  so  I  worked  my  way  back  here  and 
brought  her  along.  I  told  her  I  was  comin'  to  you 
— I  told  her  maybe  you  was  stuck  on  yourself  now 
that  you'd  made  a  pile  and  wouldn't  want  to  see  me 
— but  I'd  take  the  chance — she  didn't  want  me  to, 
but  what  else  was  there  to  do?" 

"You  did  the  right  thing,"  said  Bill,  heartily.  "I 
wish  you  had  done  it  long  ago.  Mack  will  find  a 
place  for  you  here — you  can  start  in  as  soon  as  you 
like." 

Tony's  pale  face  flushed.  "Is  that  straight?"  he 
gasped. 

Bill  laughed.     "Here's  my  hand  on  it." 

Tony  grasped  it  eagerly.  "Gee,  that's  great — 
that's  immense — thank  you,  sir — Bill " 

"That's  better.  Now  then,  tell  Nedda  I  want 
to  see  her — that  I  will  the  very  first  chance  I  get. 
You'll  find  this  a  busy  place,  Tony — we  don't  keep 
track  of  the  time — there's  too  much  to  do — but  you'll 
like  it." 


388          The  Road  of  Ambition 

Tony  nodded.  "So  long  as  I'm  in  your  crew  I 
don't  give  a  shoot  how  hard  I  work!"  he  cried. 

Bill  returned  to  his  office  slowly,  a  smile  of  pity  on 
his  lips.  What  if  it  had  been  his  lot  to  remain  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder — to  beg  the  men  higher  up 
for  work ! 

No,  that  was  not  for  him,  he  had  set  out  on  the 
road,  and  the  path  had  wound  ever  upward  until 
he  neared  the  summit — or  was  there  a  summit? 
There  seemed  always  more  to  do — much  more. 

He  had  cried  out  for  wealth — for  power — for 
love  and  they  had  been  given  him — and  still  he  was 
eager — groping.  He  stretched  his  arms  above  his 
head  in  an  ecstacy  of  triumph.  That  very  unrest 
was  what  gave  life  its  flavor — what  spurred  him  on. 
He  loved  it. 

Then  he  settled  down  to  work.  There  was  the 
Wilson  report  to  check  up — the  labor  and  material 
bills  to  go  over — why  the  dickens  didn't  Davis  come 
when  you  rang  for  him !  Didn't  he  know  there  were 
only  twenty-four  hours  in  the  day? — worst  luck! — 
there  should  have  been  at  least  forty-eight ! 

Tony  hurried  to  the  boarding  house  on  Factory 
Street  where  he  had  left  Nedda.  He  ran  most  of 
the  way  and  arrived  breathless  and  panting.  Nedda 
heard  his  step  on  the  stair  and  hurried  out  to  meet 
him. 


Friends  from  the  Past  389 

"Well?"  she  said.    "Did  you  see  him?" 

Tony  nodded,  delighting  in  withholding  for  a 
few  seconds  the  wonderful  news.  Nedda — her 
white  face  a  shade  whiter — caught  his  hands.  "He 
was  angry — he " 

Tony  grinned.  "Like  fun  he  was !  He  said  we'd 
ought  to  have  come  to  him  before — he  said  we'd 
ought  to  have  knowed  he'd  want  to  help  us — and  he 
give  me  a  job,  Nedda,  right  off  the  bat.  I'm  going 
to  work  in  his  office !" 

She  caught  a  chair  to  steady  herself.  "Tony — 
tell  me  quick — how  did  he  look?  Well?  Happy?" 

"Look?"  said  Tony,  wrinkling  his  forehead,  "gee, 
I  don't  know.  He's  all  dolled  up — and  talks  like  a 
regular  gent — but  he's  the  same  old  Bill  on  the  in- 
side— wouldn't  let  me  call  him  mister " 

"Yes,  yes — but  did  he  smile  much — did  he  seem 
glad  of — everything?" 

"Sure.     He  laughed  and  jollied  like  he  used  to." 

"Did  he — did  he  speak  of  his — wife?  Did  he 
tell  you  if  he " 

Tony  shook  his  head.  "You  ask  the  blamedest 
questions — here  I  am  tellin'  you  about  my  job  and 
you  want  to  know  about  his  wife.  Sure,  he  didn't 
talk  about  her,  but  you  could  see  he  was  crazy  about 
everythin'  he  was  doin' — he  said  he  was  comin'  to 
see  you." 

"No,  no,"  she  cried,  "he  mustn't  do  that!" 

Tony   stared   at   her.      "What's   got   into   you, 


390  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Nedda?  Don't  you  want  to  see  him?  I  should 
think  you'd  like  to  talk  over  old  times." 

She  rose.  "No,  Tony.  He  mustn't  see  me. 
He  thinks  of  me  as  a  good  friend — a  dear  friend, 
perhaps — but  if  he'd  see  me  he  would  find  how  much 
he'd  changed — how  far  behind  him  I  am." 

Tony  laughed.  "Well,  you  wouldn't  think  so  if 
you'd  heard  him  callin'  you  his  pal — his  little  sis- 
ter  " 

"Did  he  say  that?  What  else  did  he  say,  Tony? 
think — think ' ' 

He  shrugged.  "NothinV  Then  he  burst  out, 
"Nedda,  we'll  be  able  to  have  a  swell  place  our- 
selves— and  you  won't  have  to  work  except  at  the 
Mission  if  you  want  to.  Maybe  I'll  be  rich  myself 
some  day.  Didn't  I  tell  you  we'd  ought  to  go  to 
him?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  some  time.  "And  he 
looked  happy?"  she  said  at  length.  "You're  sure  of 
that,  Tony?" 

He  nodded  absently,  and  she  smiled.  "I'm  glad," 
she  said.  "I'm  awfully  glad !" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE   BATTLE   ROYAL 

OR  the  first  time  in  his  life  Tony  Duf rano  knew 
what  it  was  to  have  a  full  stomach  and  a  mind  at 
rest — for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  wore  good 
clothes,  slept  in  good  lodgings — and  the  adoration 
he  had  felt  from  boyhood  for  the  big  man — was 
turned  into  a  dumb  worship  which  needed  nothing 
to  feed  it — which  grew  daily  of  itself. 

Mack  had  given  him  a  place  as  clerk — with  a 
whispered  assurance  that  he'd  do  better  soon.  But 
Tony,  so  long  as  he  could  be  near  Bill,  serving  him, 
aiding  him,  asked  no  more  of  life. 

At  nights  he  raced  home  to  tell  Nedda  what  Bill 
had  said — had  done — of  the  great  men  who  came 
to  his  office— of  the  vast  sums  which  changed  hands 
each  day. 

"And  say,  when  he's  through  tellin'  Nathaniel 
Rogers  or  some  other  money  grabber  what  he'd 
ought  to  do  about  the  other's  ships — in  he  comes  to 
my  office  and  stands  back  of  me.  'Well,  Tony,'  he 
says,  puttin'  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  'Makin'  out 
all  right — or  do  you  need  any  help?"  Believe  me, 
there's  nothin'  I  wouldn't  do  for  him  from  kickin' 


392  The  Road  of  Ambition 

the  bucket,  down — and  the  rest  feel  the  same." 

And  Nedda,  silent — tense — drank  in  every  word. 

They  rented  a  little  house  on  Factory  Street — 

one  of  the  model  houses  Bill  had  put  up — and  Nedda 

plunged  into  the  work  she  loved — for  which  she  had 

always  prayed  she  might  have  time.     She  became 

known  as  the  Angel  of  Hope  Mission. 

Tony,  full  of  news,  bubbling  over  with  stories 
of  the  great  with  whom  he  daily  rubbed  shoulders, 
spoke  no  more  of  Bill's  coming  to  see  her.  She  was 
glad  he  had  not  come — she  told  herself  so  repeatedly 
— no — he  must  not  see  her  again — never — never. 
And  when  the  longing  rose  up  within  her — when  her 
heart  cried  out  passionately  for  a  sight  of  him — she 
crushed  its  voice — fighting  her  fight  sternly — with 
clenched  hands  and  steady  eyes.  It  was  better — far 
better  they  should  never  meet  again.  He  was  happy 
— that  was  all  that  mattered. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  August  thirty-first,  that 
Colt,  glancing  at  the  Bethel  Courier,  shot  a  com- 
mand at  Jenkins,  his  secretary. 

"Send  Mr.  Philip  to  me  at  once — don't  let  any- 
one disturb  us.' 

He  read  the  news  again,  eagerly,  his  hands  trem- 
bling a  little.  Then  he  rose  and  paced — quickly — 
lightly,  like  a  caged  beast  longing  to  be  free  that  it 
might  destroy — kill — ah,  well,  the  key  of  the  cage 
was  his  at  last ! 


The  Battle  Royal  393 

Phil  entered  slowly.    "What's  up?"  he  said. 

Colt  paused  in  his  stride  to  growl :  "Paper — read 
it!" 

Phil  picked  it  up. 

"My  God!"  he  cried,  "six  Transatlantic  ships 
sunk — so  you  think " 

"Think!"  shouted  Colt,  "I  don't  think— I  know— 
I  know  that  what  we've  been  waiting  for  has  come 
at  last.  I  tell  you  we've  got  him,  Phil — we've  got 
him  now !  He  can't  go  over  my  head  with  his  sys- 
tems— or  over  my  son's  with  his  love  affairs  and  get 
away  with  it  this  time !  No,  I've  been  sitting  tight 
for  three  years — three  long  years — waiting  for  just 
such  a  chance  as  this  and  now,  by  Jove !  I'm  going 
to  break  him !  .  .  .  " 

His  eyes  were  red — his  lips  drawn  back  in  a  snarl. 
"Break  him!  do  you  hear?  Clean  him  out — wipe 
him  off  the  map — there  won't  be  a  ghost  of  a  chance 
for  him  to  come  back!  Not  a  ghost  of  a  chance!" 

Phil  stared  at  his  father — at  the  distorted  face — 
the  shaking  hands. 

"What  can  you  do?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"Do!  I  can  send  Bethel  Steel  tumbling — I  can 
unload  on  the  market  till  it  drops  far  enough  to  wipe 
him  out." 

"Yes— but  I  don't  see " 

"Don't  you  ?  Don't  you  know  he's  bought  Trans- 
atlantic on  a  margin — got  a  million  dollars'  worth  of 
stock  for  a  hundred  thousand — and  now  that  the 


394  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ships  have  gone  down,  what  will  happen?  Why, 
Transatlantic  will  drop — the  stockholders  will  be 
panicky — they'll  unload  as  soon  as  the  market  opens 
— Matthews  will  have  to  cover  his  margin,  won't 
he?  And  how  will  he  do  it?  By  selling  Bethel,  of 
course,  and  feeding  it  to  his  brokers — but  he  won't 
have  a  chance  for  Bethel  is  going  down  so  fast 
that  there  won't  be  any  of  his  money  left  to 
protect  him — do  you  see?  Do  you  think  I  don't 
know  just  how  much  stock  he  holds.  Why,  I've 
kept  count  of  every  share  waiting  for  this  chance — 
and  now  I'm  ready — ready.  You'll  see  the  greatest 
bear  market  in  the  history  of  the  street — you'll  see  a 
big  man  wiped  out  clean  as  a  whistle — he  can't  med- 
dle with  a  Colt  and  go  scot  free — not  by  a  long 
shot!" 

Phil  caught  his  arm  eagerly.  "And  Transatlan- 
tic's first  annual  and  directors'  meeting  is  slated  for 
tomorrow  night  at  five — you  can  step  in  and " 

"And  depose  him  as  president!"  cut  in  Colt. 
"Kick  him  out — that's  what  I'll  do.  I'll  get  plenty 
of  proxies.  I'll  go  everywhere  to  get  them.  I'll 
have  him  grovelling — begging  for  mercy.  I'll  have 
him  back  where  he  started.  He'll  be  glad  to  take  his 
old  job  at  the  mills !" 

Phil  grinned.  "You  can't  punish  him  badly 
enough  to  suit  me.  Anything  I  can  do?" 

"Yes,  get  hold  of  that  Larabee  woman;  she  can 
help.  Tell  her  to  sell  the  steel  stock  he  bought  for 


The  Battle  Royal  395 

her  as  soon  as  the  market  opens — tell  her  to  go  to 
his  brokers  and  stay  around  there — keep  her  ears 
open — she  may  not  hear  a  thing  and  she  may  pick 
up  a  word  here  and  there  that  will  let  us  know  just 
how  hard  they're  hammering  him.  It's  a  chance, 
and  they  won't  suspect  her.  Now  clear  out.  Leave 
word  where  I  can  get  you  at  any  moment.  Jenkins," 
he  bawled,  uput  Myers  on  the  wire — order  the  car 
here  in  twenty  minutes — get  Ditson  on  my  private 
line — ring  up  Ship  News — find  out  if  the  sinking's 
authentic.  Can't  cross  a  Colt,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self grimly.  "Can't  cross  a  Colt !" 

Bill  had  learned  the  news  the  night  before.  With 
white  face  and  clenched  hands  he  had  listened  to  the 
message  ticked  out  over  the  wires — the  message 
which  Davis  read  off  to  him:  "Six  ships  lost — struck 
mine."  What  did  it  matter  how  they  went  down — 
what  did  anything  matter — but  the  fact  that  there 
were  lives  on  board?  He  waited  an  interminable 
space  of  time  for  the  words  in  answer  to  his  query — 
they  came  at  last — yes — the  men  had  all  been  saved 
— picked  up  by  passing  vessels.  Ah !  that  was  good ! 
He  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead  and  lit  a  cig- 
arette— now  then,  what  was  to  be  done  ? 

Stockholders  would  be  badly  scared  at  the  news — 
no  doubt  about  that — and  his  brokers  would  be 
shouting  for  money — but  he  had  Bethel !  He'd  sell 
it — every  last  share  of  it  to  protect  them.  Well, 


396  The  Road  of  Ambition 

there  was  nothing  more  to  do  before  morning — he 
dismissed  Davis  and  set  out  for  home. 

He  felt  shaken  as  though  the  firm  ground  on 
which  he  stood  had  suddenly  given  way — as  though 
he  teetered  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  Then  he 
laughed  away  his  misgivings — he  was  done  up — that 
was  it — he  had  had  a  nasty  half  hour  of  it  before  he 
knew  the  men  were  safe — a  good  night's  sleep  was 
what  he  needed !  And  his  mind  sprang  to  the  morn- 
ing— he'd  get  hold  of  his  brokers  the  first  thing — 
lucky  he  had  steel — nice  mess  he'd  be  in  if  he  hadn't ! 
By  Jove!  Perhaps  his  unloading  would  send  steel 
down  a  ways,  too — might  knock  the  wind  out  of  a 
few  beggars  who  had  put  their  last  cent  in  it !  With 
a  shock  he  thought  of  May  Larabee. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  crossed  his  mind  since 
the  morning  he  had  received  her  brief  note  and 
turned  her  over  to  his  broker — like  a  flash  her  words 
came  back  to  him.  "I  haven't  a  penny  except  the 
little  drop  that  comes  from  the  estate.  I  must  man- 
age to  live  on  that  for  the  rest  of  my  life!"  He 
couldn't  let  her  lose  it — it  was  all  she  had!  He'd 
call  her  up — he'd  tell  her  to  unload  early.  Six  ships 
— great  guns !  What  if  he  had  put  all  his  money  in 
Transatlantic ! 

Daphne  was  awaiting  him — her  eyes  eager,  her 
lips  smiling. 

"I  have  a  surprise  for  you — and  you're  not 
to  try  to  guess."  He  drew  her  to  him  with  a  sigh. 


The  Battle  Royal  397 

How  good  it  was  to  be  home — to  be  away  from  the 
strife  of  the  office — to  feel  the  arms  of  the  woman 
he  loved  about  his  neck — to  find  her  warm  lips  raised 
to  his  own. 

"It's  something  for  your  dinner — something  you 

like  better  than Why,  Bill,"  she  broke  off 

sharply,  "what's  wrong?  You  look  so  tired — so 
drawn — has  anything  happened?" 

He  laughed  at  her.  "No — only  it's  been  a  busy 
day — an  extra  busy  day — and  I'm  glad  to  be  here 
'with  you." 

He  would  spare  her — she  would  worry  so  if  she 
knew — he  must  not  let  her  share  his  anxiety.  Thank 
goodness  he  was  there  to  save  her  from  just  such 
things ! 

"You  go  wash  up  and  change  into  something  cool. 
We'll  have  a  bite  in  the  little  rose  garden." 

He  smiled.  "Sounds  great — I  am  a  bit  grimy — 
I'll  be  down  in  a  jiff." 

He  mounted  the  steps.  He  would  call  up  May 
now — there  was  just  a  chance  of  catching  her. 
Daphne,  remembering  all  at  once  something  she 
wished  to  tell  him,  followed  him — but  she  paused  in 
the  doorway  as  she  heard  his  voice  at  the  phone. 

"Is  this  Bethel  Inn?  Yes,  I  want  Mrs.  Larabee 
— no — no  name — it's  important — very." 

Daphne  recoiled  as  though  from  a  blow.  May 
Larabee !  So  that  was  why  he  looked  so  white — so 
haggard — the  pain  of  the  thought  was  too  great 


398  The  Road  of  Ambition 

for  her  to  bear  and  she  crushed  it  back.  "Oh,  no," 
she  whispered.  "Oh,  no — it  can't  be  that " 

She  heard  him  speaking  softly,  insistently.  "She's 
not  in  her  room?  Well,  page  her,  I  must  speak  to 
her— no— I'll  hold  the  line." 

Daphne  tried  to  go — to  tear  herself  away — but 
she  could  not — she  was  as  one  turned  to  marble — 
— at  last  she  heard  his  impatient  exclamation : 

"She  isn't?  You're  sure? — no — never  mind — 
I'D  call  up  again." 

She  stepped  back  as  he  rose — she  saw  him  hesitate 
— frowning — then  he  ran  up  the  stairs.  She  did 
not  stir  for  a  long  while — but  she  felt  suddenly 
calm — as  though  she  had  found  the  answer  to  a 
question  long  troubling  her — as  though  she  had 
learned  the  truth  at  last — slowly  she  moved  across 
the  porch  and  down  the  steps. 

When  Bill  joined  her,  he  found  her  seated  at  the 
little  table  by  the  rose  bushes — she  was  unusually 
quiet,  but  he  was  glad — it  gave  him  an  opportunity 
to  think — to  plan.  He  toyed  with  his  food  and  she 
leaned  toward  him  suddenly. 

"Bill,  you're  not  eating  a  thing." 

He  looked  up  with  a  laugh.  "Had  a  late  lunch, 
dear,  not  a  bit  hungry — rather  sit  and  look  at  you — 
you're  a  feast  for  the  eyes." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  she  drew  a  quick  breath, 
almost  as  though  from  a  stab  of  pain.  When  they 
had  finished,  he  rose  abruptly. 


The  Battle  Royal  399 

"I've  got  to  call  a  number.  I'll  be  back  directly," 
and  he  left  her.  She  waited  a  long  time — her  hands 
idly  in  her  lap — her  body  relaxed,  her  eyes  closed, 
as  though  listening  to  the  noisy  twittering  of  nesting 
birds — the  low  measured  hum  of  the  insects — as 
though  drinking  in  the  earthy  sweetness  of  the  mois- 
tening ground — the  heavy  perfume  of  honeysuckle. 
As  she  saw  him  coming  toward  her  she  became  sud- 
denly rigid.  She  caught  her  lip  between  her  teeth — 
but  she  did  not  alter  her  position.  When  he  had 
come  quite  near  she  opened  her  eyes  lazily. 

"Get  your  number?"  She  saw  that  a  straight 
line  crossed  his  forehead. 

"No,"  he  said  abruptly.     "They  don't  answer." 

"Was  it  someone — you  wanted  to  speak  with — 
very  much?" 

He  was  tempted  to  tell  her  all  about  it — to  ask 
her  advice — but  he  checked  the  impulse — once  she 
knew  that  he  was  troubled  about  money  matters  she 
would  have  no  rest — she  had  stood  a  fiery  summer 
in  Bethel  to  be  at  his  side — he  would  not  make  her 
carry  his  business  burdens  as  well.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"Someone  I'd  like  to  get  hold  of." 

"Were  they  stopping  here  in  town?"  she  asked, 
after  a  pause. 

He  nodded.  "Yes,  at  Bethel  Inn.  It's  just  a  mat- 
ter of  business,  but  it's  the  deuce  that  I  can't  locate 
them." 


400  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  shivered  suddenly.  "Bethel  Inn."  Then  she 
rose.  "I'll  run  along  in,  Bill,"  she  said,  "it's  getting 
chilly  out  here." 

He  nodded.  "So  it  is — I'll  be  with  you  presently 
— soon  as  I  have  my  smoke." 

He  watched  her  as  she  passed  into  the  house — 
his  eyes  soft — his  lips  smiling.  There  was  no  one 
like  her  in  the  world — no  one  with  that  quick  sym- 
pathy— that  warm  tenderness — other  women  posed 
— or  acted  a  part — she  was  just  herself.  If  May 
had  been  like  that — and  the  thought  of  her  brought 
back  his  plight.  Well,  if  he  couldn't  get  her — he 
couldn't — he'd  make  it  up  to  her  somehow — no 
woman  would  lose  money  through  his  advice  if  he 
could  help  it.  Then  he  dismissed  her,  abruptly.  By 
Jove !  if  Transatlantic  started  down  hill  what  a  fight 
there'd  be — well — he  wasn't  afraid — not  much! 
and  he  drew  a  long  breath — he'd  pull  out  on  top ! 

Daphne  opened  her  eyes  and  turning  her  head, 
glanced  at  the  little  enameled  watch  by  her  bed.     It 
was  ten  o'clock.    She  sat  up  with  a  start.    What  had 
made  her  sleep  so  late?    Then  she  remembered  she 
had  heard  the  clock  strike  four — five — six — before 
she  had  closed  her  eyes.    What  a  night  it  had  been ! 
The  blackness  charged  with  vague  doubts — fears — 
uncertainties.    She  rang,  and  her  maid  appeared. 
"Has  Mr.  Matthews  left  yet?" 
"He  left  about  eight  o'clock,  Ma'am." 


The  Battle  Royal  401 

"About  eight?" 

The  maid  nodded.  "He  went  out  walkin'  at  six 
and  when  he  came  in  Mr.  Davis  was  waitin'  for  him 
with  the  car." 

Daphne  lay  back  on  her  pillows.  Bill  had  never 
before  left  home  in  the  morning  without  waking  her 
for  a  brief  chat — something  was  wrong — she  was 
sure  of  it!  Her  pride  battled  fiercely  wth  her  over- 
whelming anxiety — if  he  chose  to  keep  it  from  her — 
if  he  preferred  to  face  an  issue  alone  she  could  not 
prevent  it!  He,  no  doubt,  had  other  confidants — 
and  in  a  flash  she  thought  of  May  Larabee — he  had 
hurried  to  speak  with  her  the  moment  he  had  reached 
home — and  when  he  failed  to  find  her  in  he  had  tried 
again.  Well,  Daphne  whispered  through  closed 
teeth — whatever  happened  she  would  not  let  him  see 
how  much  she  cared.  She  spread  open  the  morn- 
ing paper  which  lay  on  a  chair  beside  her — she 
glanced  at  its  headlines  through  a  blur  of  tears — 
she  let  it  fall  from  her  hands  with  a  cry,  but  the 
words  danced  before  her  eyes ! 

"Six  Transatlantic  Steamers  Sunk  Without 
Warning!" 

Her  maid  ran  to  her  side — but  she  pushed  her 
away — no — no — she  must  dress — she  must  go  to 
him  at  once — all  her  grievances  swept  aside  in  a 
rush  of  pity.  He  would  be  stunned  by  the  news — 
broken.  His  heart  and  soul  was  wrapped  up  in 
Transatlantic — this  would  be  a  cruel  blow  for  him. 


4Q2  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  waved  aside  the  breakfast  tray  her  maid 
brought  her — but  at  her  plea  swallowed  some  coffee. 
"Poor  boy,"  she  whispered  to  herself.  "Poor  boy !" 

The  car  awaited  her  at  the  door  and  she  leaped  in. 
"Mr.  Matthews'  office,"  she  called. 

They  sped  down  the  long  drive  and  on  to  the 
highway.  The  haze  of  midsummer  hung  in  the  air. 
The  trees  by  the  roadside  were  bowed  down  with 
the  weight  of  their  leaves — a  meadow  of  freshly  cut 
hay  flung  her  its  heavy  sweetness  as  she  flashed  by. 
She  breathed  deeply — after  all,  it  might  not  be  so 
bad.  Surely  Bill  could  cope  with  this  situation  as 
he  had  with  so  many  others.  He  was  strong. 

Outside  the  office  building  was  gathered  a  crowd. 
They  eyed  her  curiously  as  she  entered.  She  won- 
dered what  they  were  doing  there.  She  hurried  to 
the  elevator.  The  car  was  full,  but  they  made  room 
for  her.  She  was  glad  when  it  came  to  a  stop  at  his 
floor.  She  stepped  out.  The  hallway  seemed 
choked  with  people — men  who  spoke  in  loud,  harsh 
voices.  Women,  who  listened  silently — intently. 

She  forced  her  way  through  them  until  she 
reached  the  outer  office.  She  paused,  staring  in  the 
doorway.  The  place  was  in  an  uproar — office  boys 
flew  back  and  forth  with  messages — telephones  tin- 
kled— a  mass  of  men  and  women  battled  fiercely 
with  the  clerks  to  gain  entrance — close  to  the  gate 
were  several  sharp-eyed  youths — glancing  about 
shrewdly — taking  notes. 


The  Battle  Royal  403 

She  saw  old  Mack,  his  face  white  and  set,  driving 
them  back — begging  them  to  be  patient — but  they 
pressed  forward,  a  string  of  questions  on  their  lips. 
There  was  something  sinister  about  their  quiet  per- 
sistence in  the  face  of  so  many  rebuffs. 

"Who  are  they?"  she  whispered  to  a  woman  be- 
side her — a  little  shriveled  creature — who  had 
thrown  a  shawl  over  her  head,  but  who,  in  her  haste, 
had  forgotten  to  change  her  worn  carpet  slippers 
for  shoes. 

"Them's  the  reporters,  I  guess,"  she  replied;  then 
sweeping  Daphne's  smart  costume  with  her  sharp 
eyes,  she  whispered: 

"Is  your  money  in  it,  too?" 

"In  what?"  gasped  Daphne — fearing  the  answer 
— feeling  herself  suddenly  plunged  into  the  heart 
of  a  tragedy. 

"In  Transatlantic.  All  mine  is  and  my  man's, 
too.  He  worked  at  the  plant  under  Big  Bill — he 
swore  by  him  and  when  they  started  this  here  com- 
pany he  put  all  our  savin's  in — every  cent  we'd  put 
away  for  twenty  years.  If  it  goes  down  any  lower 
we'll  be  wiped  out.  Do  you  suppose  any  of  us  will 
get  a  chance  to  see  the  boss?" 

Daphne  shrank  back.  "Wiped  out."  Then  she 
caught  the  woman's  hand  impulsively.  "Oh,  don't 
be  afraid — he'll  never  let  that  happen  to  you " 

"But  he  can't  help  it,"  said  the  woman  monot- 
onously. "It's  them  boats  sinkin'  that's  done  it — it 


404  The  Road  of  Ambition 

isn't  him — don't  I  know  he's  as  good  as  gold  to 
everyone?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  Daphne.  "He  is— he  won't  let 
you  suffer.  He'll  find  some  way  to  save  you." 

The  woman  looked  at  her  curiously.  "Do  you 
know  him  well,  Ma'am?" 

Daphne  nodded.     "He's  my  husband." 

The  woman's  voice  rose  to  a  shriek.  "Your  hus- 
band! Oh,  please,  Mrs.  Matthews,  go  to  him — tell 
him  every  penny  we  have " 

The  crowd  stilled  at  the  shrill  cry — whirled  and 
turned  to  stare  at  Daphne — the  reporters  were  the 
first  to  reach  her  side.  Then  the  mob  closed  in — • 
fighting — cursing — imploring  her  to  intercede  for 
them — to  save  them  from  ruin.  She  faced  them — 
her  cheeks  white  as  snow — her  eyes  wide  with  hor- 
ror. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  she  cried  out.  "He'll  take 
care  of  you  all — he'll  take  care  of  you  all." 

Old  Mack,  with  the  aid  of  the  clerks,  fought  his 
way  through  and  reached  her  side. 

"Leave  her  alone,  you  pack  of  hounds,"  he 
shouted.  "Don't  one  of  you  dare  lay  hands  on  her 
— can't  you  see  she's  ready  to  faint?" 

He  drew  her  away  from  them,  but  they  caught 
her  dress — beseeching  her  to  say  a  word  for  them — 
just  a  word — and  she  promised  breathlessly  through 
white  lips — her  strength  almost  gone. 

She  followed  Mack  into  his  office  and  sank  down. 


The  Battle  Royal  405 

Faintly  she  could  hear  the  murmur  of  the  mob — 
the  voices  of  the  clerks  commanding — soothing — 
threatening.  She  covered  her  ears  with  a  shudder. 

"You  shouldn't  have  come  down  here,  Ma'am," 
Mack  told  her,  his  voice  trembling — his  face  still 
flushed  with  horror.  "Heaven  only  knows  what 
they  would  have  done  to  you  if  we  hadn't  got  you  out 
— they're  stark  crazy,  most  of  'em — poor  devils." 

"Tell  me,"  she  cried,  "is  it  as  bad  as  they  say  — 
is  it  true  they  will  lose  their  money?" 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "It's  a  shame — that's  what 
it  is.  Someone's  out  to  break  Bill  and  the  sinkin'  has 
given  them  their  chance." 

"Is  it  Colt?"  she  whispered.     Mack  nodded. 

"Yes — the  snake — I  knew  he  had  it  in  for  Bill 
ever  since  the  first  time  the  three  of  'em  come  to  the 
old  office — but  Colt,  he  wouldn't  come — wouldn't 
have  no  dealin's  with  Bill — but  he  ain't  forgot  that 
what  Bill  said  went  with  the  three — no — and  he  ain't 
forgot  that  the  reason  Bethel  Steel  didn't  go  to  the 
wall  was  because  Bill  put  it  on  its  feet — he's  had  a 
grudge  of  long  standin' — Colt  has — and  now's  his 
chance  to  smash  the  feller  what  put  it  all  over  him 
— and  he's  a-goin'  to  do  it  if  he  can !" 

Daphne  sprang  to  her  feet.  "I  must  see  my  hus- 
band!" she  cried. 

Mack  shook  his  head.  "Don't  do  it,  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews," he  begged.  "There's  nothin'  on  earth  you 
can  do  for  him  now — and  it  would  weaken  him  to 


406  The  Road  of  Ambition 

have  you  here — he's  got  to  put  up  the  fight  of  his 
life  and  he  needs  all  his  strength." 

She  caught  his  arm.  "But  I  want  him  to  know 
that  I  don't  care  what  happens — I  don't  care  if  he 
loses  everything — so  long  as  I  have  him — he  must 
know  that " 

"Time  enough  to  tell  him  later,"  said  Mack. 
"He's  got  to  go  through  with  his  scrap  to  the  end — 
if  they  lick  him  he'll  need  you  to  stand  by  him — he's 
tied  up  now — I'm  afeared  to  break  in." 

She  looked  about  helplessly.     "Then  I'd  better 

go-" 

"I  think  so,  Ma'am." 

"Oh,  if  there  were  only  something  I  could  do !" 

"Nothin1  could  save  him  now,  unless  Colt  would 
stop  unloadin'." 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear.  "Remember,  Mack, 
if  you  can  only  see  him — just  for  a  minute — tell  him 
that  nothing  matters  but  him — nothing  in  the 
world." 

"Yes'm — God  bless  you — I'll  tell  him.  You'd 
best  go  out  this  way,  Ma'am — and  don't  talk  to  none 
of  them  reporter  fellers." 

She  hesitated.  "If  he  should  need  me — or  want 
me — let  me  know — let  me  know  at  once — promise." 

Mack  patted  her  hand.  "I'll  promise  on  my  word 
of  honor." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE    ONLY   WAY 

OWIFTLY  she  ran  down  the  stairs  to  her  waiting 
^   car. 

A  huge  crowd  had  gathered  before  the  building — 
a  noisy,  turbulent,  threatening  crowd.  She  caught 
a  word  here  and  there. 

"He's  swamped."  "Bit  off  more  than  he  can 
chew."  "What's  the  last  quotation?" 
I  She  moved  through  them  unnoticed.  They  were 
too  absorbed  to  observe  the  white-faced  woman  in 
their  midst — the  chauffeur,  talking  with  an  eager 
group — saw  her  coming  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  The 
crowd  stared  at  her  sullenly  and  someone  yelled. 

"That's  Mrs.  Matthews."  But  before  they  could 
surround  her,  she  had  leaped  in  and  slammed  the 
door  behind  her — and  the  car  glided  away,  leaving 
a  shouting  mob  behind. 

She  sat  huddled — staring — so  Bill  was  facing  ruin 
alone — and  they  would  not  let  her  go  to  him! 
Mack  had  believed  it  was  Colt's  doing — Colt! 

Perhaps  it  was  on  her  account  that  they  were  ham- 
mering Bill — perhaps  Philip  had  come  home  from 
the  hills  with  ugly  stories  that  had  set  Colt's  smolder- 
407 


408  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ing  hatred  on  fire — perhaps  she  herself  was  to  blame 
for  it  all  1 

The  thought  was  too  staggering  to  contemplate — 
she  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart — if  it  were  her 
fault  she  must  do  all  in  her  power  to  rectify  it  be- 
fore it  was  too  late — she  must  see  Philip — she  must 
plead  with  him  to  stop  his  father — she  was  not  en- 
tirely sure  just  what  it  was  Colt,  senior,  was  doing — 
but  she  knew  that  if  he  kept  on  Mack  had  said  Bill 
would  be  smashed.  She  cried  out  sharply,  "Stop 
here!" 

The  car  slid  to  the  curb  and  she  leaped  out  and 
entered  Bethel's  National  Bank.  They  knew  her 
there.  They  would  let  her  telephone. 

She  heard  the  shrill  whisper  that  ran  from  lip  to 
lip  at  her  appearance: 

"That's  Matthews'  wife." 

They  were  courteous,  but  their  eyes  were  full  of 
hungry  curiosity.  At  her  request,  they  led  her  to  a 
booth. 

She  called  up  Colt's  house  and  the  butler  informed 
her  that  Mr.  Philip  had  gone  to  Bethel  Inn.  Yes,  he 
was  sure,  because  Mr.  Colt,  senior,  had  left  word 
that  his  son  should  notify  him  throughout  the  day  as 
to  his  whereabouts.  Bethel  Inn — yes,  Ma'am. 

She  hurried  out.  "Bethel  Inn,"  she  whispered 
through  white  lips. 

She  looked  about  the  lobby,  dazed,  wondering 


The  Only  Way  409 

where  she  could  find  him.  A  page  passed  and  she 
called  to  him. 

"Have  you  seen  Mr.  Philip  Colt  here?" 

"Yes,  Madam,  he's  in  the  reading  room — this 
way." 

Philip,  deep  in  a  chair,  his  paper  before  him,  was 
evidently  awaiting  someone,  but  at  her  low  whisper, 
he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Daphne!"  he  cried.  "By  Jove!  you're  the  last 
person  I  expected  to  see !" 

She  faced  him  quietly.  "Phil,  I  must  talk  to  you 
— can't  we  go  somewhere — where " 

He  shrugged.  "This  is  as  good  a  place  as  any. 
What's  the  trouble?" 

She  dropped  in  the  chair  he  had  vacated  and  he 
drew  up  another  facing  her  and  seated  himself.  She 
leaned  toward  him. 

"Phil,  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you — I  don't  know 
how  to  begin — but  your  father  is  ruining  Bill  and 
I've  got  to  stop  it  somehow." 

"What  makes  you  say  that?"  he  asked  sharply. 

She  ignored  his  question.  "I've  got  to  stop  it," 
she  repeated  dully.  "I  can't  let  Bill  go  down  without 
trying  to  help.  I've  got  to  stop  it." 

"What  makes  you  think  my  father  is  back  of 
this?"  he  demanded. 

"I  know  he  is!"  she  cried.  "He's  always  hated 
Bill — and  he's  always  hated  me.  Don't  tell  me  that 
what  he's  doing  is  part  of  the  game  they're  all  play- 


4io  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ing — and  the  best  man  wins — because  Bill's  played 
hard — and  he's  played  square.  I  won't  see  him 
lose !"  Phil  did  not  answer  for  a  minute.  At  length 
he  said,  "Well,  what  did  you  think  I  could  do?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  didn't  know — I  thought 
perhaps  because  of — of  our  friendship  you  would 
—help  me." 

He  studied  her  closely.  "Granted  what  you  say 
is  true,  I  suppose  you  know  that  when  the  governor 
starts  hammering  a  chap  he  generally  goes  through 
with  it!" 

"But  there  must  be  some  way,"  she  cried — "some 
way " 

Phil  shook  his  head.  "Nothing  could  save  him 
now  short  of  a  pile  of  money — he's  probably  done 
for— he " 

She  caught  his  arm.  "I  haven't  money,  Phil — 
that  is — only  a  little — but  I  have  jewels — would 
they  do? — do  you  think  I  could  use  them? — do  you 
think ?" 

He  laughed.  "You  are  in  earnest,  aren't  you? 
Never  thought  you  could  care  for  a  man  as  much  as 
that — didn't  believe  you  had  it  in  you." 

She  did  noFhalf  hear.  "I  can  go  to  the  bank  and 
get  them  now — at  once — if  you  think  it  will  do  any 
good." 

"No,"  he  said  suddenly.  "I  have  a  better  scheme 
— I  admire  your  pluck — can't  help  it — so  perhaps 
I'll  give  you  a  helping  hand  after  all." 


The  Only  Way  411 

"Phil !"  she  cried.  "If  you  would — if  you 
would " 

"What  would  you  do?" 

"Anything,"  she  cried,  recklessly.  "Anything  to 
save  him." 

"Sh,'  he  cautioned,  "not  so  loud!  You  can't  do  a 
thing  today — the  market  will  close  too  soon,  but  to- 
morrow with  plenty  of  cash  we  might  be  able  to 
jump  in  and  pull  him  out  of  this  hole.  I  don't  prom- 
ise anything,  remember,  so  don't  raise  your  hopes. 
Now  then,  get  your  jewels  and  as  much  money  as  you 
can  scrape  together  and  if  you  are  in  dead  earnest 
about  this  thing — if  you  really  mean  to  stand  by  him 
— come  what  may — bring  them  to  me  late  this  after- 
noon. I'll  go  over  them  with  you  and  if  you  have 
enough  we'll  turn  it  over  to  his  brokers  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning — they  can  use  it  as  margin." 

"Go  to  you  this  afternoon?"  she  whispered.  "I 
don't  understand " 

He  spoke  impatiently.  "I  can't  explain  the  whole 
deal  to  you  now — I'm  in  a  rush  as  it  is — expect  to 
meet  someone  here  any  minute — but  I  can't  go  to 
your  place,  can  I?  If  your  husband  should  by  any 
chance  find  me  there  he'd  raise  a  row — you  know 
that — he'd  never  let  you  risk  losing  your  jewels  for 
him,  would  he?" 

She  shook  her  head.     "I  suppose  not — but " 

"Well,  I  have  to  go  over  them  to  see  if  you  have 
enough  to  make  it  worth  while — my  father  will  not 


412  The  Road  of  Ambition 

be  home  until  late — there's  the  stockholders'  meet- 
ing which  will  last  until  six  and  the  directors'  meet- 
ing which  will  be  over  by  half  past,  but  Dad's  going 
to  a  conference  after  it — so  if  you  drive  over  at — 
say  five  o'clock  and  ring  twice  I'll  have  you  ad- 
mitted immediately.  We  can  run  through  the  things 
you  bring  and  you  can  hurry  home.  Your  husband's 
due  at  the  meeting,  too — and  he'll  be  tied  up  there. 
You  needn't  say  a  word  to  him,  and  next  day  he'll 
find  he  has  a  stack  of  money  back  of  him.  He  won't 
question  where  it  comes  from,  so  long  as  it  is  there. 
After  it  is  all  over,  and  you  have  saved  him,  you  can 
tell  him.  Now  then,  how  about  it?" 

She  tried  to  catch  his  eye — but  he  was  glancing  at 
his  watch.  "Yes  or  no — I  must  be  off." 

"Phil,  if  I  told  you  what  I  have " 

"Nonsense,"  he  cut  her  short.  "If  you're  afraid 
to  come,  that's  different — we'll  call  the  matter  off. 
I'm  not  keen  for  it,  anyway — it's  going  against  my 
own  father — but  I  always  liked  you,  Daphne,  you 
know  that,  and  I'm  willing  to  do  my  best  to  help 
you  out — if  you  think  I've  got  any  little  scheme " 

"Oh,  no,  Phil,"  she  cried.  "I  don't,  I  don't— I 
only  wondered — I  only  thought " 

He  shrugged.  "Perhaps  we'd  better  not  attempt 
it — it  may  fail,  you  know." 

But  she  clung  to  his  arm.  "No,  no,  I  must  try — 
I  must !  I'll  come.  I'll  bring  them.  I'll  do  what- 
ever you  say  if  you  will  only  help  me." 


The  Only  Way  413 

"Very  well,"  he  said  abruptly.     "I'll  expect  you." 

After  she  had  gone,  a  shadow  detached  itself  from 
the  surrounding  darkness  and  came  toward  Phil.  It 
was  May  Larabee. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  thought  she'd  never  go. 
What  did  she  want?" 

He  looked  at  her  sharply  and  wondered  how  much 
she  had  heard. 

"She  wanted  me  to  rush  in  and  save  her  husband 
— came  to  me  for  help." 

May  nodded.     "I  see." 

Phil  moved  uneasily.  "I'd  almost  given  you  up. 
What's  the  news?" 

"I  got  to  Hanlon's  office  the  first  thing  this  morn- 
ing, sold  out  and  asked  if  they'd  mind  my  watching 
the  ticker.  The  whole  place  had  gone  mad  and  when 
steel  started  to  drop  they  forgot  everyone  in  the 
scramble.  I  never  saw  such  a  riot.  I  stuck  close 
and  listened  with  both  ears — but  as  for  picking  up 
anything — I  might  as  well  have  been  at  home  cro- 
cheting!" 

ou'd  better  go  back,"  he  told  her.  "There's 
no  telling  what  may  come  up  before  the  market 
closes." 

"All  right,"  she  said,  "if  you  think  it's  worth 
while." 

Bill,  his  lips  white,  his  jaw  squared,  faced  Patti- 
son  and  Benson. 


The  Road  of  Ambition 

"No,"  he  ground  out.  "No,  not  on  your  life!  I 
won't  take  your  money — either  of  yours — do  you 
suppose  Colt  will  stop  short  of  slaughter  now?  If 
I  go  down,  I  go  down  alone — I  don't  drag  my  friends 
with  me — now  for  the  last  time — No  I" 

Pattison  tried  another  tack.  "Don't  be  a  fool, 
Matthews.  We  all  know  what  Colt's  doing." 

"Yes,"  broke  in  Benson,  his  voice  trembling. 
"Yes — I  told  you  he'd  do  it — I  told  you  he'd  lay 
for  you — and  smash  you  when  the  time  came " 

"Look  here,"  shouted  Pattison.  "Do  you  sup- 
pose Decker  or  Rogers  are  standing  for  this — they 
asked  me  to  come  to  you — to  put  it  to  you  straight 
— they  want  to  loan  you " 

Bill  pacing,  whirled.  "If  my  brokers  will  carry 
me  over  I'll  pull  out.  If  not,  I'll  go  down.  I'm 
not  afraid  to  face  failure.  I'm  not  afraid  to  be  a 
poor  man  again — but  the  only  thing  I  am  afraid  of 
is  to  take  money  from  you  men  who  are  big  enough 
fools  to  lend  it  to  me — on  a  straight  proposition  that 
I  believed  in — that  I  knew  was  a  winner,  I'd  be  glad 
to  have  you  stake  in,  you  know  that, — but  on  a  specu- 
lation— no! — I  wouldn't  let  you  risk  a  red  cent  to 
get  me  out  of  this — not  if  I  were  ten  times  worse  off 
than  I  am — not  if " 

"You  can't  be  worse  off,"  broke  in  Pattison. 
"How  much  longer  do  you  think  your  brokers  can 
holdout?" 

Bill  squared  his  shoulders.     "I  figure  they'll  see 


The  Only  Way  415 

me  through — they've  got  to!  The  rumors  that 
Transatlantic's  in  bad  condition  are  lies — you'll  find 
at  the  meeting  tonight  that  the  earnings  are  big — 
that  the  cash  on  hand  is  big.  I've  told  them " 

The  telephone  tinkled.  Davis  sprang  to  it  and 
lifted  the  receiver.  He  held  his  hand  over  the 
mouthpiece  and  turned  a  white  face  to  Bill.  "It's 
Hanlon.  He  says  they  can't  hold  out." 

"I  knew  it,"  cried  Pattison,  "tell  him  we'll " 

But  Bill' caught  up  the  instrument.  "Hanlon,"  he 
cut  in,  "you've  got  to  carry  me  through!  Under- 
stand? You've  got  to  carry  me  through!  It's  my 
only  chance.  No,  don't  talk.  I  won't  listen.  I'm 
coming  over  there.  Yes,  to  your  office — now." 

He  hung  up  and  leaped  to  his  feet,  but  Pattison 
blocked  his  path.  "They  can't  do  it,  Bill.  Listen 
to  reason.  It's  against  the  rules  of  their  house " 

"Rules  be  damned,"  he  grinned.  "This  is  one  time 
they'll  go  in  the  discard,  Pattison.  Hanlon's  going 
to  stand  by  me,  do  you  hear?  And  what's  more,  he's 
going  to  want  to 1" 

Benson  sprang  to  his  side.  "You're  crazy,  Bill; 
you  don't  know  what  you're  doing!" 

"Sorry,"  snapped  Bill.  "No  time  to  argue.  Is 
the  car  at  the  door?" 

Davis  nodded,  as  Dugan,  his  face  purple,  burst 
in.  "Bill,"  he  cried,  "what  are  ye  thinking  of,  lad? 
Why  haven't  ye  called  on  me?  Don't  ye  know  we 
stand  ready " 


416          The  Road  of  Ambition 

"He  won't  take  help,"  Pattison  shot  out.  "He 
has  some  fool  notion  in  his  head  that  brokers  are 
human  beings — expects  them  to  see  him  through." 

"Bill,"  gasped  Dugan,  "ye  ain't  thinking  that?' ' 

Bill  nodded.  "I  have  to,  Dugan.  I've  never  bor- 
row another  man's  money  on  a  stock  deal  of  this 
kind — too  much  chance  of  his  being  cleaned  out." 

"Don't  say  it,"  shouted  Dugan,  seizing  his  arm. 
"Don't  say  it  when  it's  not  meanin'  it  ye  are. 
What's  got  into  Bill  that  ye're  treatin'  yer  friends 
this  way — come  here  till  I  show  ye  reason." 

Bill  flung  him  aside.  "Can't  talk  now,"  he  called 
over  his  shoulder,  and  was  gone. 

In  the  outer  office  of  Hanlon  &  Sears  a  crowd  of 
shrieking  men  fought  their  way  to  the  ticker — shout- 
ing an  order  in  one  breath — recalling  it  in  the  next — 
cursing — praying — raving — as  the  stock  leaped 
down. 

Transatlantic  had  dropped  twenty  points — Bethel 
Steel  had  dropped  twelve. 

May,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  turned  with 
a  shrug  of  disgust  from  the  sight  of  wild-eyed,  dis- 
hevelled men — from  the  sound  of  their  voices — 
hoarse  and  cracked.  She  wanted  to  go  home.  She 
was  sick  of  the  sight  of  them.  She  had  done  her 
share  for  Colt  and  she  was  through.  She  wondered 
if  the  settlement  he  had  promised  her  would  be  forth- 
coming. She  smiled  to  herself — at  least  she  had  paid 


The  Only  Way  417 

Bill  back — she  had  said  she  would  and  she  had  done 
it. 

At  this  juncture  a  chalky-faced  man  created  a  mild 
disturbance  by  attempting  to  blow  out  his  brains. 

For  a  minute  the  shrieking  mob  turned  its  atten- 
tion to  him — wrested  the  revolver  from  him — then, 
as  though  resenting  the  interruption,  hurried  back 
to  the  tape,  snarling  and  fighting  like  so  many  ter- 
riers over  a  bone,  leaving  him  to  grope  his  way, 
whimpering,  to  the  door. 

May  watched  him  with  cold  eyes.  Just  so  would 
Bill  be  broken — crushed.  She  clenched  her  hands. 
She  had  waited  long  for  this  hour  and  it  had  come 
at  last. 

She  glanced  at  her  watch.  It  lacked  fifteen  min- 
utes of  closing  time.  She  would  get  to  Hanlon  if  she 
could  manage  it — perhaps  she  might  learn  from  him 
how  badly  Bill  had  fared.  She  approached  a  clerk. 
She  asked  if  she  might  see  the  senior  partner. 

"It  would  be  impossible  just  now,"  he  told  her. 
Then  because  she  was  smartly  dressed — because 
she  seemed  to  have  none  of  the  fever  of  the 
crowd — he  wondered  if  she  might  not  be  someone 
of  importance — he  opened  the  gate.  "But  if  you 
will  come  into  his  waiting  room  you  can  speak  with 
him  as  soon  as  the  trading  for  the  day  is  over." 

She  smiled  at  the  youth,  and  followed  him.  Cer- 
tainly Colt  could  have  no  complaint  to  make  now — 
she  had  not  shirked  her  duty  in  any  way.  She  chose 


418  The  Road  of  Ambition 

a  deep  leather  chair  and  leaned  back.  The  boy  left 
her  with  a  slight  bow,  and  she  gave  herself  up  to 
the  delightful  task  of  spending  the  money  Colt  had 
promised  her.  Suddenly  she  heard  a  sound  of  voices 
behind  her,  and  whirling,  she  beheld  two  men — one 
of  them  was  Harris,  the  broker  who  had  done  her 
business  for  her,  and  behind  him,  flushed,  hatless — 
but  with  head  thrown  back  and  shoulders  squared, 
was  Big  Bill! 

She  caught  her  breath  and  stared  at  him,  fasci- 
nated. When  his  eyes  fell  on  her,  he  gave  a  cry: 

"Have  they  cleaned  you  out,  too?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  could  not.  Instead,  she 
gazed  at  him  wide-eyed — her  breath  coming  in  gasps 
— she  had  never  been  so  afraid  in  her  life — if  he 
knew  he  would  kill  her! — if  he  but  dreamed  she  had 
betrayed  him!  She  had  seen  him  snap  a  chair  back 
in  two — she  moistened  her  lips. 

She  heard  him  speaking.  "I  swear  I  didn't  know 
this  could  happen  when  I  told  you  to  buy — I  tried 
to  reach  you  last  night — I  couldn't " 

Harris  patted  Bill's  arm.  "Don't  worry  about 
Mrs.  Larabee,"  he  said.  "She  was  one  of  the  lucky 
ones.  She  was  down  here  the  first  thing  this  morn- 
ing with  an  order  to  sell." 

Bill's  relief  was  tremendous.  "Good!"  he  cried. 
Still,  she  did  not  speak,  measuring  her  distance  to  the 
door,  wondering  if  she  could  escape  before  he  had 
time  to  think — to  suspect.  Harris  turned  to  him : 


The  Only  Way  419 

"I'll  tell  Hanlon  you're  here — just  a  second." 

He  left  them  alone.     Bill  was  pacing. 

"To  think  you  were  saved !  They've  got  me  down 
on  my  back,  but  I'm  fighting  yet!  I  couldn't  foresee 
this  thing — nobody  could!  There  was  no  way  on 
earth  to  foretell  it  unless  you  knew  Colt's  game — 

that's  how  so  many  were  swamped — that's  why " 

Suddenly  he  stopped.  She  stiffened,  as  she  saw  the 
sudden  suspicion  dawning  in  his  eyes — as  though  a 
new  idea  had  occurred  to  him — an  idea  born  of  his 
very  words — he  spoke  gruffly : 

"How  did  you  happen  to  sell  out  before  the 
panic?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "Just  luck,  Bill,"  she  heard 
herself  saying.  "Just  pure  luck.  I  wanted  to  get  in 
on  another  stock  I'd  heard  of  and  I " 

She  faltered  and  stopped — she  tried  to  go  on, 

"and  I "  but  her  voice  drifted  off.  He  took  a 

step  toward  her. 

"That's  a  lie,"  he  ripped  out.  "You  knew  it  all 
the  time,  didn't  you?  I  believe  you're  in  the  very 
game  with  him — that's  why  you  played  safe." 

She  recovered  herself  and  faced  him — a  white 
fury. 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  I?"  she  shrieked.  "Who's 
going  to  look  after  me,  if  I  don't  look  after  myself? 
What  have  you  ever  done  to  expect  me  to  run  to  you 
and  tell  you  that  Colt  has  planned  to  bear  the 
market?" 


420  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"But  you  did  come  to  me  for  help !  You  came 
with  some  cock  and  bull  story  about  having  no  one 
else  to  go  to — yes — I  remember  now  you  were  talk- 
ing with  Phil  Colt  at  the  time — probably  framing 
the  whole  thing  up  between  you — if  I  thought 
that " 

"Well,  what  would  you  do?"  she  cut  in.  "You're 
trying  to  bully  me  because  you're  beaten.  I  told  you 
long  ago  to  leave  the  Big  Four  alone — I  told  you 
long  ago  they'd  never  let  an  upstart  come  in  and 
show  them  how  to  run  their  business — but  you 
wouldn't  listen  to  me,  would  you?  No — I  wasn't 
good  enough  for  you — once  you'd  met  Daphne  Van 
Steer — not  after " 

"Stop !"  he  cried  sharply.  "Don't  bring  her  name 
into  this." 

"Why  shouldn't  I?"  she  flashed  at  him.  "Is  she 
so  much  better  than  I  ?  Is  she  such  a  good  woman 
— such  a  saint !" 

"I  tell  you — stop!"  he  commanded,  drawing  his 
breath  quickly  through  his  teeth,  but  she  was  not 
afraid  now.  She  moved  toward  him. 

"I'll  stop,  but  not  before  I'm  through — not  before 
I  tell  you  one  thing — one  thing  about  your  wife — I 
heard  it  today — oh,  you  needn't  believe  it — no — but 
it's  true.  I  heard  her  talking  to  Phil  Colt — yes, 
Philip  Colt — the  son  of  the  very  man  who's 
ruining  you — and  she  arranged  to  go  to  him  late  this 
afternoon — when  she  knew  you'd  be  away — when 


The  Only  Way  421 

she  felt  sure  it  would  be  safe.  Oh,  you  think  I'm 
lying,  do  you?  Well  then,  if  she's  not  home  at  five 
o'clock,  you'll  know  where  to  look  for  her." 

He  sprang  at  her,  as  Harris,  ripping  open  the 
door,  flew  to  his  side. 

"Matthews!"  he  shouted,  "are  you  mad!" 

May,  in  her  corner,  grinned  at  him.  "Yes — he's 
mad — he  wants  to  tear  me  to  bits  because  I  have 
told  him  the  truth — he  wants  to " 

Harris  turned  on  her.  "I  don't  know  what  you've 
been  saying — but  you'd  better  go — you'd  better  go 
at  once." 

May  smiled  at  him,  her  eyes  snapping  like  little 
flames.  "I'll  go,"  she  said  and  glanced  at  Bill — but 
she  shrank  back  before  his  gaze — his  face  was  white, 
but  his  eyes  blazed  like  fire — she  cast  a  startled  look 
at  him  and  fled. 

Harris  caught  Bill's  arm.  "Come  this  way,  Mr. 

Matthews,  Hanlon's  waiting — he "  But  Bill 

did  not  move — only  his  hands  twitched.  Harris 
shook  him. 

"Get  hold  of  yourself,"  he  said  sharply.  "Han- 
Ion's  waiting — everything's  at  stake — you  can't  af- 
ford to  let  that  woman  make  you  see  fire  just  now 
— that's  what  she'd  like  to  do — here,  brace  up." 

Bill  nodded.  He  straightened  up — but  his  eyes 
were  still  dangerous — his  hands  clenched.  "I'm  all 
right  now,"  he  said  slowly.  "I'm  all  right  now," 
and  he  followed  Harris  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

DAPHNE   LEARNS  THE  TRUTH 

A  T  three  o'clock  to  the  minute,  Cyrus  P.  Colt 
T*-  dropped  the  tape  he  held  in  his  shaking  hand, 
and  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  bang. 

"I've  done  it,  Jenkins!"  he  shouted.  I've  done 
it!  What  do  you  think  of  that,  eh?  What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

He  cast  aside  the  chewed  butt  he  had  gripped  be- 
tween his  teeth,  patted  his  forehead  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  straightened  his  tie.  He  was  emi- 
nently satisfied.  He  rubbed  his  hands  together  with 
a  deep  chuckle. 

"Tell  Pattison  I  couldn't  see  him?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

'^And  Decker?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  Rogers?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That's  right,  Jenkins,  that's  right.  Many  in  the 
office?" 

Jenkins  nodded.  "It's  full,  sir;  they  all  want  to 
see  you." 

"Myers  there?    And  Ditson?" 

422 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        423 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  I'll  see  them,  Jenkins,  I'll  see  them  in  ten 
minutes.  Keep  everyone  out  of  here  for  ten  min- 
utes. I  want  that  much  time  to  myself — under- 
stand?" 

Jenkins  bowed  and  Colt  dragged  out  his  watch 
and  laid  it  on  the  table.  "Get  rid  of  as  many  of 
them  as  you  can,  and  don't  let  any  one  in  who  has 
not  an  appointment.  I'll  ring  when  I  want  them." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  and  he  withdrew. 

A  great  stillness  settled  over  the  office.  Colt 
breathed  deeply,  his  muscles  relaxed,  then  he  arose. 
To  him  came  faintly  the  sound  of  many  voices  from 
the  street  below — a  swelling  sound — with  an  occa- 
sional shrill  note.  He  marched  to  the  window  and 
flung  it  up.  His  office  faced  the  Bethel  Courier 
Building.  Before  it  an  eager  crowd  struggled  for 
a  view  of  the  Bulletin  Board.  Colt  glanced  down 
at  them  with  a  quick  breath.  That  was  a  sight  for  a 
man!  Hundreds  of  black  heads  bobbing  ex- 
citedly, darting  here  and  there  in  hopes  of  a  better 
view. 

A  youth  in  shirt  sleeves,  perched  on  a  ladder, 
spelled  out  with  many  flourishes  of  his  brush,  the 
latest  returns.  To  the  numberless  questions  asked 
him — to  the  sea  of  eager,  upturned  faces,  he  re- 
mained superbly  indifferent — his  hand  hung  poised 
over  the  white  sheet — then  he  began  to  write : 


424  The  Road  of  Ambition 

STEEL  TUMBLES 

Colt  dug  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  smiled  as 
he  read — smiled  with  a  touch  of  self-consciousness 
— an  author  of  a  great  work  who  sees  before  his 
very  eye  a  multitude  hungrily  devouring  the  words 
he  has  penned. 

WILDEST  PANIC  AS  PRICES  DROP 

He  nodded  his  head — he  tingled  from  head  to 
.oe — he  felt  a  warm  glow  of  pride  in  the  thought 
that  he  had  caused  it — he  alone — a  man  just  as  they 
were — but  with  a  mind  that  made  him  a  master  while 
they  were  serfs.  He  listened  to  their  mutterings  tol- 
erantly. 

TRANSATLANTIC  DROPS  TWENTY 
POINTS 

MARKET  CLOSES  AT  LOWEST   PRICE 
OF  DAY 

The  youth  in  shirt  sleeves  descended  from  his  lad- 
der, gathered  it  up,  and  departed,  unmoved,  through 
the  crowd — the  black  heads  closed  in  more  closely 
about  the  board.  The  men  pushed  and  elbowed  des- 
perately for  a  glimpse  of  the  glaring  letters. 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        425 

Colt  turned  back  to  his  office  with  a  shrug.  He 
would  have  liked  someone  to  share  his  triumph — 
to  acclaim  his  cleverness — but  he  contented  himself 
with  the  thought  of  a  deed  well  done.  He  had  set 
out  to  smash  a  man — and  he  had  made  a  good  job 
of  it! 

He  smiled  to  himself,  supremely  pleased.  But 
that  was  not  all.  There  still  remained  the  little  mat- 
ter of  the  meeting  where  he  and  Matthews  would 
come  face  to  face.  Where  he  would  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  deposing  Matthews  as  president — of  heckling 
him  with  points  of  law  his  attorneys  were  prepared 
to  raise. 

He  stretched  luxuriously  and  dropped  into  a  chair. 
It  had  been  a  great  day  I  A  great  dayl  He  chose 
a  cigar  from  his  case,  sniffed  it  appreciatively,  and 
lighting  it,  leaned  back;  then  he  puffed  deeply  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

Two  minutes  later,  he  straightened  up,  his  face 
alert,  calculating,  his  body  tense,  ready  for  action. 
He  drew  the  papers  on  his  desk  toward  him,  glanced 
them  over,  cast  them  aside,  then  he  pressed  a  but- 
ton. Jenkins  appeared. 

"All  right.  Send  'em  in,"  Colt  growled;  "see  if 
Ditson  has  that  contract  ready.  Did  you  write  a 
letter  to  Walsh?  Call  up  Bagby  and  ask  him  to 
come  over  as  soon  as  he  can — for  heaven's  sake, 
Jenkins,  don't  stand  there  with  your  mouth  open — 
move!" 


426  The  Road  of  Ambition 

And  Jenkins  fled.  Colt  settled  down  in  his  chair, 
the  cigar  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  a  deep  scowl  on 
his  forehead.  He  was  business  again  to  his  finger- 
tips. He  greeted  the  first  man  who  entered  with  a 
curt  nod. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said;  "be  with  you  in  a  minute." 

Ditson,  the  greatest  corporation  lawyer  in  the 
country,  retained  by  the  Big  Four  at  a  tremendous 
fee,  dropped  like  an  obedient  school  boy  in  a  chair. 
At  last  Colt  turned  to  him : 

"Everything  ready,  Ditson?" 

Ditson  nodded.    "Yes,  everything." 

"No  slip  ups,"  snapped  Colt.  "Understand  that, 
don't  you?" 

"I  understand,"  said  Ditson.  "Matthews  hasn't 
a  chance." 

Colt  rubbed  his  hand  stogether.  "That's  right, 
,Ditson.  No  loopholes." 

Ditson  drew  up  his  chair.     "If  you  have  time  to 

run  over  the  facts " 

,  "Plenty,"  said  Colt.  "Let's  hear  them."  He 
smiled  to  himself.  He  had  Matthews  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand  now.  What  chance  had  he  to  prove  the 
Transatlantic  in  satisfactory  legal  condition  with 
Ditson  there  to  confuse  him  I  He  leaned  toward  the 
attorney. 

"Now  then,  what's  the  first  point?" 

When  Daphne  reached  home,  she  went  straight  to 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        427 

her  room.  She  wanted  to  be  alone — to  have  time 
to  think — but  when  she  had  locked  her  door,  had 
closed  herself  in  with  her  own  thoughts,  she  shrank 
in  terror  from  them.  She  was  afraid!  Afraid! 
Where  was  Bill?  What  had  happened  to  him? 
Why  had  he  sent  her  no  message? 

She  rang  up  his  office,  only  to  learn  he  was  not 
there.  She  moved  away  from  the  telephone,  dazed, 
confused,  wondering  which  way  to  turn.  She  paced 
swiftly.  Surely  Bill  knew  she  would  want  to  learn 
what  had  taken  place — surely  he  must  have  thought 
of  her  at  some  time  during  the  day — have  torn  his 
mind  from  the  big  battle  he  was  waging  to  plan  for 
her — he  cared  for  her — yes — in  spite  of  his  absorp- 
tion in  his  business — his  problems — in  spite  of 
everything — she  felt  confident  of  that — but  she  must 
find  out  at  all  costs — she  must  know  the  truth  I 

She  thought  of  Graves  at  the  Courier  office.  Per- 
haps he  had  talked  with  Bill.  She  called  him  up  and 
questioned  him,  endeavoring  to  keep  the  burning 
anxiety  from  her  voice. 

"Things  are  in  bad  shape,"  he  told  her  reluctantly. 
"No,  I  don't  know  how  bad.  It's  hard  to  say.  I've 
tried  to  reach  Mr.  Matthews,  but  he  won't  give  out 
any  statement.  I  wish  to  heaven  he  would.  He 
hasn't  said  anything  to  you  that  we  could  use?" 

Her  lips  smiled  at  that,  but  her  eyes  were  full  of 
pain.  To  her !  Why,  she  had  not  even  entered  his 
thoughts  throughout  that  long  ghastly  day ! 


428  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"No,"  she  said  quietly;  "nothing!" 

She  glanced  at  her  watch;  it  was  still  early — there 
might  yet  be  time  to  think  of  something  which  would 
save  her  from  going  to  Phil  Colt!  That  was  it  I 
With  startling  suddenness  she  knew  that  the  seed  of 
her  terror  was  this  man.  The  fact  staggered  her. 
She  had  shrunk  from  facing  it.  Trying  to  reassure 
herself  in  a  dozen  different  ways — assuring  herself 
that  throughout  the  interview,  he  had  been  imper- 
sonal— his  manner  thoroughly  indifferent — that  she 
herself  had  forced  him  into  the  role  of  conspirator. 

But  her  reasoning  could  not  still  her  horror  of 
him.  She  had  trusted  him  once — and  to  cap  it  all 
Bill  hated  him — would  rather  have  her  seek  help 
from  any  other  source.  But  to  whom  could  she 
turn? 

She  thought  of  her  father.  She  would  fly  to 
him.  Pour  out  her  story — her  fears — but  even  as 
she  planned  what  she  would  say,  she  shook  her  head. 
She  could  not  tell  him — that  same  pride  which  had 
kept  her  lips  mute  through  the  long  months,  held  her 
back — no,  he  must  never  know  that  all  was  not  well 
between  herself  and  her  husband. 

In  her  panic  she  decided  to  consult  Pattison.  She 
called  his  office.  He  was  there  and  answered  her 
stiffly. 

"Have  you  seen  Bill  today?"  she  asked  quickly, 
afraid  of  his  answer. 

"Yes."    He  vouchsafed  no  more. 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        429 

"Does  he  seem  to  be — bearing  up?  Oh!"  she 
cried,  her  pride  breaking  down  beneath  the  strain 
of  the  past  hours — "oh,  can't  you  tell  me  something 

about  him?  I  haven't  been  able  to  see  him I 

haven't  heard  from  him — I  don't  know  what  to 
think " 

"He  was  all  right  so  far  as  I  could  see,"  said 
Pattison  shortly. 

There  was  a  pause,  while  she  struggled  for  self- 
control — suddenly  she  burst  out  impulsively:  "Isn't 
there  some  way  that  you — that  his  friends  can  help 
him?" 

She  waited,  breathless,  for  his  answer. 

"We  have  done  everything  we  could." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  all  of  us  have  offered  him  all  we 
have " 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  the  immensity  of  her  relief  leav- 
ing her  limp.  "Oh,  I  might  have  known  you  would! 
I " 

"You  don't  understand,"  he  cut  short.  "He  has 
refused  it!" 

"Refused  your  help?" 

"Yes." 

"Even  though  he  knew " 

"Even  though  he  knew  it  spelled  ruin." 

"But  what  can  he  be  thinking  of?" 

"Heaven  only  knows,"  said  Pattison.  "None  of 
us  do." 


430  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  turned  away  with  tears  of  disappointment  in 
her  eyes.  Here  was  an  honorable  avenue  of  escape 
offered  Bill — and  he  had  refused  it !  He  would  have 
been  the  first  one  to  spring  to  his  friends'  aid  had 
the  cases  been  reversed.  Why  had  he  done  this 
thing?  She  brushed  her  hand  over  her  eyes.  She 
was  immeasurably  weary — she  felt  all  at  once  as 
though  she  could  not  go  on — could  not  battle  for  him 
thus  in  the  dark.  And  yet  there  was  nothing  else  to 
do.  Money  might  save  him.  If  she  could  only 
speak  to  him — ask  him 

She  called  his  office  again.  No,  they  told  her,  Mr. 
Matthews  had  not  returned.  She  asked  for  Mack, 
and  he  answered  her  evasively. 

"We  can't  none  of  us  tell  how  bad  things  are, 
ma'am — no,  I  don't  know  where  he's  gone." 

He  was  plainly  distressed  at  having  no  good  news 
to  tell  her — plainly  anxious  to  escape  her  questions. 

"But  tomorrow,"  she  pleaded.  "Isn't  there  a 
chance  things  will  be  better  tomorrow?  Suppose  he 
should  find  plenty  of  money  to  back  him,  what 
then?" 

Mack  smiled  in  sheer  pity,  as  he  answered  her: 
"Money's  always  a  help — but  where'll  he  find  it,  if 
he  won't  take  none  of  it  from  his  friends?" 

She  hung  up  and  clasped  her  hands  loosely  in  her 
lap.  Then  it  was  true.  There  might  be  a  chance 
for  him,  provided  he  had  sufficient  security.  She 
studied  her  jewels  again,  tumbling  them  out  on  the 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        431 

bed.  A  splendid,  glittering  collection.  She  exam- 
ined each  piece  critically.  Yes,  they  were  undoubt- 
edly of  great  value — a  small  fortune.  She  would 
give  them  all  up — all  save  the  jade  bracelet  he  had 
asked  her  to  wear,  and  a  tiny  locket  with  a  snapshot 
of  him  inside.  She  clasped  its  chain  about  her  throat. 
The  rest  she  would  give  up  gladly — everything — if 
it  would  only  save  him !  Why  didn't  he  call  her  up  ? 
Why  hadn't  he  left  word  where  she  could  reach  him? 
She  struggled  desperately  against  the  dread  in  her 
heart — the  dread  lest  he  feel  no  need  of  her  in  this 
crisis — this  black  hour — if  she  could  only  hear  his 
voice,  she  knew  all  would  be  well. 

Philip  gave  his  orders  carefully.  "A  lady  will 
come  here  this  afternoon  to  see  me.  Bring  her  to 
my  study.  Don't  let  anyone  disturb  us.  Is  that  per- 
fectly clear?" 

It  was.  The  bill  he  pressed  in  the  butler's  palm 
made  it  even  clearer.  The  servant  bowed  himself 
out.  He  would  see  that  madam  was  not  kept  wait- 
ing. 

After  he  had  gone,  Philip  gave  himself  up  to  a 
close  survey  of  himself  in  the  mirror.  His  face  was 
a  shade  whiter  than  usual — his  lips  a  bit  tense — his 
eyes  unnaturally  bright,  but  he  had  hold  of  himself 
— no  doubt  about  that.  If  she  were  coming,  it  was 
almost  time  for  her  to  be  there.  He  doubted  if  she 
would  appear  at  all.  She  distrusted  him.  In  a  mo- 


432  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ment  of  despair  she  had  come  to  him  for  help.     She 
probably  regretted  the  impulse  by  this  time.  .  .  . 

The  minutes  passed  slowly.  He  waited  impa- 
tiently, drumming  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  Would 
she  or  would  she  not  come?  He  poured  himself  out 
a  drink — to  steady  his  nerves,  he  told  himself.  He 
felt  better  after  it.  Even  if  she  didn't  show  up,  the 
hour  of  keen  anticipation  had  been  something! 

He  caught  a  cigarette  up  in  his  fingers  and  held 
it  poised,  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  light  footstep 
in  the  corridor.  The  match  burned  his  fingers,  but 
he  did  not  know  it.  The  color  surged  into  his  face. 
He  answered  the  soft  knock  with  a  curt  "Come  in." 

The  butler  entered.  "The  lady's  come,  sir,"  he 
said.  "Shall  I  show  her  in?" 

Phil  nodded.  He  did  not  trust  his  voice.  So  she 
was  there  at  his  very  threshold  I  By  Jove!  that 
meant  Bill  was  ruined  for  fair. 

She  never  would  have  come,  otherwise — never  in 
the  world ! 

The  servant  stepped  back  and  beckoned  and 
Daphne  entered,  her  eyes  on  Philip's  face. 

"I'd  almost  given  you  up,"  he  said.  She  nodded, 
but  did  not  speak.  She  looked  very  white,  he 
thought — and  her  hands  fluttered  to  her  throat  and 
fell  at  her  sides.  She  seemed  waiting  for  his  next 
move — poised  as  though  for  flight  at  the  first  threat- 
ening step. 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        433 

He  felt  his  way. 

"Things  looked  pretty  bad  at  the  close  of  the 
market.  Worse  than  I  thought." 

She  took  a  step  toward  him.  He  saw  that  she  had 
forgotten  her  fear  in  her  concern  for  Bill. 

"Oh,  it  must  be  that,"  she  cried;  "nothing  else 
would  keep  him  silent — nothing  else — I  can't  believe 

he  would  let  me  suffer "  she  stopped  as  though 

she  feared  she  had  said  too  much. 

He  raised  his  eyebrows.  So  Matthews  had  not 
posted  her  as  to  how  matters  stood — had  kept  her  in 
the  dark.  That  was  queer.  He  wondered  what  it 
meant.  He  saw  her  distress  and  spoke  casually. 

"Suppose  we  run  through  the  things  you've 
brought,  what  do  you  say?" 

She  did  not  meet  his  eyes,  she  felt  suddenly 
ashamed  of  her  fears,  her  imaginings.  She  laid  the 
bag  on  the  table  and  fumbled  with  the  silk  cord. 

"I'll  open  it,"  he  said  quickly,  leaping  forward. 
Their  fingers  touched.  She  moved  back,  her  heart 
pounding — then  she  straightened  up  with  a  flush — 
what  had  she  to  fear?  This  man  was  doing  her  a 
kindness — that  was  all.  He  seemed  unconscious  of 
her  action.  He  drew  out  a  necklace  of  curious  de- 
sign— a  beautiful  piece — of  matched  emeralds. 

"That  ought  to  be  good  as  a  starter,"  he  said, 
holding  it  off.  "When  did  you  get  that?" 

"Bill  had  it  made  for  me  when  we  came  back  from 
the  hills " 


434          The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  regretted  the  words  as  soon  as  they  had 
passed  her  lips — why  had  she  alluded  to  that  time? 
He  laid  the  necklace  on  the  table,  stroking  it  lightly. 
"Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "that  reminds  me.  I  never  did 
hear  just  what  happened  that  day  you  ran  away  from 
me.  What  made  you  do  it,  Daphne.  Why  did  you 
go  back?  Was  it  for  the  looks  of  the  thing?" 

She  stared  at  him,  trying  to  read  his  thoughts — 
breathing  quickly. 

"What  does  it  matter,  Phil,  now  that  it  is  over 
and  done  with?" 

He  shrugged.  "I  was  only  curious.  Who 
wouldn't  be?  There  I  was  prepared  for  a  nice  long 
trip  to  the  city  with  you  and  when  I  came  back  from 
helping  our  bags  aboard  I  found  you  gone,  and  a 
half-witted  brakeman  mumbling  some  message  or 
other.  Why  did  you  do  it?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "Let's  not  talk  about  it," 
she  evaded.  Still  he  persisted:  "Was  it  because  you 
didn't  want  to  come  back  to  Bethel  with  me — afraid 
of  questions  and  all  that  sort  of  thing?" 

She  shook  her  head  and  her  eyes  met  his  squarely. 
"No,  it  wasn't  that.  You  know  very  well  it  wasn't 
— it  was  simply  because  I  discovered  I  cared  for  my 
husband  as  I — as  I  never  knew  I  could  care  for  any 
man,"  she  ended  softly,  half  to  herself. 

"Must  have  found  it  out  just  about  train  time — 
if  I  remember  correctly,  you  let  me  think  you'd  mar- 
ried him  to  help  you  out  of  a  hole." 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        435 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  wasn't  sure — I  wasn't 
sure  until " 

"Until  you  saw  us  together,  eh? — until  you  proved 
that  in  a  tight  place  I  didn't  come  up  to  scratch  and 
he  did.  Was  that  it?" 

"No,  no,  Phil,"  she  cried.  "You're  different,  of 
course — you  are — it's  your  nature  to " 

"To  make  love  to  a  woman  I  care  for — exactly. 
I  wasn't  sure  you  recognized  that  fact.  It  helps 
matters,  though " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"I  mean  if  I  can't  get  what  I  want  in  one  way  I 
take  it  in  another!" 

She  shrank  from  him.  "And  all  this  talk  about 
helping  him " 

"Was  the  only  way  I  could  get  you  here.  It 
worked,  too — you  must  admit  that!" 

She  backed  away  from  him.  "I  don't  believe  you 
mean  what  you  say — you  are  doing  it  to  frighten  me 
— you  wouldn't — you  couldn't  mean " 

He  shrugged,  but  his  hands  trembled.  "Do  you 
imagine  for  one  minute  that  I  really  proposed  saving 
the  man  who  took  you  from  me?  If  he  hadn't 
stepped  in  just  when  he  did — you  would  have  taken 
me  in  the  end.  I  wasn't  such  a  bad  bargain — I  might 
have  forgiven  him  for  going  over  my  father's  head 
— for  anything  else,  in  fact — but  for  taking  you — 
never!" 

She  darted  toward  the  door,  but  he  blocked  her 


436  The  Road  of  Ambition 

path.  "You  can't  get  away,"  he  said  easily.  "If 
you  call  for  help,  no  one  will  hear  you — they  are 
very  deaf  this  afternoon.  I  saw  to  that.  Now  then, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

The  mask  was  off.  She  stared  at  him,  her  hand 
on  her  heart — stared  at  the  face  of  the  man  she  had 
known  since  childhood — at  the  face — strangely  dis- 
torted— stained  with  a  deep  red  flush — at  his  lips 
drawn  into  a  tight  smile — at  his  eyes,  cool,  apprais- 
ing. 

"I've  wanted  you  ever  since  we  were  small,"  he 
continued  in  a  level  voice.  "There  were  always,  lit- 
tle boys  around  you — swarms  of  them — and  I  hated 
them — every  last  one  of  them.  I  hated  them  when 
you  chose  them  for  partners  at  dancing  school — I 
hated  them  when  they  pulled  you  on  your  skates  or 
dragged  you  on  their  sleds !  I  remember  wishing 
I  were  big  so  that  I  could  carry  you  off  and  keep  you 
away  from  them — so  you  would  always  have  to 
dance  and  skate  and  coast  with  me — me — me !" 

"Phil!"  she  cried— "I  didn't  know— I  never 
dreamed " 

"When  I  saw  you  in  some  fellow's  car  or  canoe 
— I  felt  the  same  way — only  it  was  worse — much 
worse.  I  wanted  to  kill  him,  but  instead,  I'd  smash 
things — anything  I  could  get  my  hands  on — tear 
them  to  bits — ride  my  horse  until  he  dropped  under 
me.  ...  " 

She  caught  his  arm.     "Phil,  if  you  cared  for  me 


Daphne  Learns  the  Truth        437 

that  way,  surely  you  will  help  me  now — you " 

But  he  went  on  as  though  he  had  not  heard  her. 
"Then  we  grew  up  and  you  came  out.  I  asked  you 
that  night,  do  you  remember,  and  you  told  me  you'd 
never  marry  a  Colt — I  left  you — drove  my  car  into 
the  west  wall.  I  didn't  care  what  I  did.  I  told  my 
father  I'd  have  you  or  no  one — and  he  thought  it 
was  clear  sailing.  He  always  had  gone  out  and  got- 
ten what  he  wanted — it  did  look  as  though  I'd  get 
you  in  the  end — but  Matthews  stepped  in — a  man 
from  nowheres — what  did  he  have  to  offer  that  I 
could  not  give  you?  Nothing!  And  I  thought  it 
wouldn't  last — I  didn't  see  how  it  could — no  one 
did.  So  I  waited,  but  instead  of  leaving  him  you 
turned  around  and  began  to  care  for  him.  I  couldn't 
believe  it  at  first — but  I  proved  it  today — I  know 
you're  afraid  of  me — yes,  you  are — I  know  you 
hated  coming  here  alone — but  you  came  just  the 
same — because  you  wanted  to  save  him — you  risked 
everything  for  that  man's  sake — I  could  have  stood 
the  rest — but  not  this — not  this — he's  had  enough 

of  you — and  now  I'm  going  to  take  you  myself " 

'  He  caught  her  in  his  arms  with  a  suddenness  that 
gave  her  no  time  to  escape — and  as  she  battled  with 
him  she  felt  his  hot  breath  on  her  cheek,  his  face 

close  to  her  own — his  lips She  turned  her  head 

away. 

"Phil,"  she  cried,  "Phil— you're  mad— 
you're " 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE   ROAD   OF  AMBITION 

C  OMEONE  knocked  at  the  door.  She  felt  his 
^  hold  loosen  and  she  wrenched  herself  free.  He 
turned  to  seize  her,  but  the  rap  sounded  again — in- 
sistent— sharp. 

"Get  out!"  he  flung  over  his  shoulder.  "What 
the  devil  do  you  mean  by ?" 

The  butler's  voice  came  to  him  in  a  shrill  whis- 
per: 

"There's  a  man  here  to  see  you,  sir — he  won't 
take  no  for  an  answer — he  says  if  you  don't  say  as 
how  you're  at  home — he'll — he'll  break  down  the 
door " 

"Who  is  it?"  snapped  Phil. 

"Mr.  Matthews,  sir." 

"Matthews!" 

"Bill !"  she  cried,  with  a  sob  in  her  voice.  "Thank 
Heavens  ..." 

Phil  flew  to  the  door.  "Tell  him  I'm  out — tell 
him  I  was  here  but  that  I've  gone — tell  him — tell 

him "     Suddenly  he  whirled  on  her,  his  face 

livid.     "You   told   him  you   were   coming — it's   a 

trap " 

438 


The  Road  of  Ambition          439 

But  he  read  the  relief  in  her  face.  "No,  no  I"  she 
cried,  "I  didn't  know — I  didn't  dream  he  would 
come."  He  did  not  doubt  her. 

"Go  down  and  tell  him  I've  gone " 

"Won't  do  any  good,  sir.  He  said  he'd  give  me 
five  minutes'  start — he  said  if  I  wasn't  back  by  that 

time,  he'd  come  after  me  himself — he  said " 

There  was  a  sudden  silence,  charged  with  tension. 
The  butler's  voice  rose  to  a  scream:  "He's  coming 
now.  ..." 

Phil  stared  at  her.  "He  mustn't  find  you  here," 
he  whispered.  "He'd  kill  you — kill  me " 

"I'll  tell  him!"  she  cried.  "He'll  under- 
stand " 

"Don't  be  a  fool !"  he  ripped  out.  "No  one  could 
understand  this — you  and  I  here  alone — I  tell  you 
he  wouldn't  believe  you — get  behind  that  curtain  and 
if  you  come  out  for  any  reason  whatever  I'll  make  up 
a  story  that  will  settle  you  for  all  time  as  far  as 
he's  concerned." 

He  stuffed  her  bag  of  jewels  into  her  hands. 
"Quick!"  he  commanded. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  Bill's  voice.  "If  you  don't 
take  me  to  him  at  once,  I'll  break  your  arm — there 
— now  will  you  do  it?" 

There  came  a  sharp  cry  of  pain  from  the  servant 
and  the  door  was  flung  open.  Phil,  breathing  heav- 
ily, braced  himself,  but  fell  back  a  pace  beneath  Bill's 
glare. 


44-O  The  Road  of  Ambition 

His  eyes  were  bloodshot  and  he  panted  as  though 
he  had  run  a  long  ways.  His  glance  swept  the  room 
and  returned  to  Phil.  Suddenly  the  tremendous 
strain  under  which  he  labored  seemed  to  ease  a  bit; 
he  straightened  up. 

"Well,"  he  said  abruptly,  "I  see  you're  alone." 

Phil  regarded  him  coolly.  "What  do  you  want, 
Matthews?  What  do  you  mean  by  bullying  my  ser- 
vants this  way?" 

Bill  squared  his  shoulders.  "My  mistake,  Colt," 
he  said  shortly.  "I  saw  red.  Someone  lied  to  me — 
someone  I  might  have  known  would  have  lied.  I'm 
sorry  to  break  in  on  you  this  way — I'll  go  now." 

But  Phil  took  a  step  toward  him.  "No,  you 
won't,"  he  said.  "Not  until  you've  explained  just 
who  you  expected  to  find  here." 

Bill  flushed.  "I've  apologized,  Colt,  that's  more 
than  I've  ever  done  to  any  man.  We'll  let  it  go  at 
that.  It's  a  bad  blunder  on  my  part.  That's  all  I'll 
say." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Phil  coolly,  "/'//  tell  you— you 
expected  to  find  your  wife  here !  You " 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Just  what  I  say.  What  else  would  make  you 
break  in  on  me  this  way?  What  else  would  explain 
your  relief  at  finding  me  alone?  Did  you  think 
she'd  heard  you  were  cleaned  out  and  that  she'd 
come  to  me? — did  you  think ?" 

"Stop !"    Bill's  face  was  white,  his  voice  hoarse. 


The  Road  of  Ambition  441 

"Leave  her  name  out  of  this!  do  you  hear  me? 
Leave  her  name  out  of  this  or  I'll  finish  you !  Yes! 
and  I'd  like  to  do  it,  too !  I've  done  a  thing  or  two 
to  one  Colt  today  and  I'm  just  about  ripe  to  tackle 
another!" 

And  he  brought  down  his  fist  upon  the  table — his 
face  ugly.  Phil  shrank  from  him,  then  with  a  start 
he  saw  the  change  in  his  expression — for  Bill  had 
glanced  down  at  an  object  under  his  hand — a  sud- 
den curiosity — a  dazed  incredulousness — then  a 
swift,  sharp  suspicion  flashing  across  his  face.  .  .  . 

Philip  moved  nearer  to  see — but  he  stopped  short, 
as  Bill  held  up  to  his  gaze  the  emerald  necklace. 

"Where  did  this  come  from?" 

Phil  shook  his  head.  He  moistened  his  lips  and 
waited. 

Bill  spoke  again,  slowly,  with  a  tremendous  effort. 
"Where  did  this  necklace  come  from?" 

Still  Philip  did  not  move,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
man's  face.  Bill  approached  him,  he  leaned  close. 
"I've  asked  you  twice  where  this  came  from — I'm 
going  to  ask  you  once  more — just  once  more — under- 
stand? Three  times  is  my  limit.  Now  then,  for  the 
last  time — what  is  my  wife's  necklace  doing  here?" 

Phil  whirled  on  him.  "I'll  tell  you!  You  want 
to  know,  do  you?  You  think  I  was  lying  when  I 
said  she  turned  from  you  when  she  heard  you  were 
broke  and  came  to  me.  Well,  it's  true — every  word 
of  it — she  came  here  of  her  own  accord.  May  Lara- 


442  The  Road  of  Ambition 

bee  told  you  you'd  find  her  here,  didn't  she?  Well, 

she  gave  it  to  you  straight — she "  Bill  leaped 

for  him.  He  wound  his  fingers  about  Phil's  throat 
and  flung  him  backwards,  smiling  at  his  futile  strug- 
gles— his  clawing  fingers.  But  he  stopped  short 
at  a  woman's  shriek — his  arms  fell  to  his  sides. 

Philip,  choking  and  gasping,  slunk  to  a  corner, 
but  Bill,  his  face  gray,  stared  at  the  girl  who  stepped 
from  behind  the  curtain — stared  at  her  as  though 
he  had  seen  her  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 

"Bill,"  she  whispered,  "it  isn't  true — it "  but 

the  words  died  on  her  lips  at  the  look  in  his  eyes. 

He  turned  and  glanced  at  Phil,  cowering  in  his 
corner — and  at  her — then  he  shook  his  head,  as 
though  trying  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

"Bill,"  she  cried,  running  to  his  side,  "I  came  here 
to  save  you — I  came  here  thinking  perhaps " 

But  he  flung  off  her  hand — he  studied  her  again 
with  that  strange  detachment.  Then  whirling  on  his 
heel,  was  gone.  She  stood  motionless  where  he  had 
left  her.  She  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps,  the  faint 
bang  of  a  heavy  door.  Phil,  feeling  his  throat  ten- 
terly,  whispered: 

"By  Heaven !  I  thought  I  was  a  goner  that  time !" 

His  voice  broke  the  spell!  She  did  not  answer. 
She  did  not  look  in  his  direction,  instead  she  flew  to 
the  window  and  flung  it  wide. 

"Bill!"  she  cried,  "wait — wait — I'm  coming — 
I'm  coming " 


The  Road  of  Ambition  443 

There  was  no  answer.  She  turned  and  ran  down 
the  stairs,  tore  open  the  front  door. 

"Bill,"  she  sobbed,  "wait  for  me — wait " 

Stumbling  in  her  haste,  she  flew  after  him.  The 
road  was  black.  The  sharp  stones  cut  through  the 
thin  soles  of  her  slippers,  she  was  panting  for  breath, 
but  she  struggled  on.  Once  they  were  alone,  she 
told  herself,  she  would  make  him  listen — she  would 
tell  him  all  from  the  beginning — he  could  not  have 
meant  to  leave  her  there  with  Phil — to  cast  her  off. 
He  had  looked  at  her  so  strangely — she  was  afraid 
— perhaps  the  day's  strain  had  unbalanced  him — 
perhaps  losing  all  had  unnerved  him — that — and 
finding  her  there.  .  .  . 

"Bill!"  she  cried,  "just  let  me  tell  you — just  let 
me  tell  you " 

She  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  leading  to  their 
home — she  stood  there  staring — the  house  was 
ablaze  with  lights.  She  caught  her  breath.  She 
brushed  her  sleeve  over  her  eyes,  what  could  it  mean 
— what  could  have  happened?  She  approached 
slowly — avoiding  the  squares  of  light  on  the  grass — 
pressing  close  to  the  bushes.  Through  the  open  win- 
dows she  heard,  as  she  drew  nearer,  the  sound  of 
men's  voices. 

She  reached  the  porch.  That  was  at  least  in  dark- 
ness. She  crept  to  an  open  window  and  looked  in. 
The  room  was  full  of  men.  Pattison,  Decker,  Rog- 


The  Road  of  Ambition 

ers,  Benson — the  managers  of  the  Works — Dugan 
— Graves — Old  Mack — and  there  in  their  midst 
stood  Bill,  his  face  still  white  and  strangely  tense, 
but  his  lips  smiling  as  they  crowded  about  him. 

"Surprise  party,  Bill,"  sang  out  Pattison. 
"Waited  the  deuce  of  a  long  time.  Where  did  you 
go  after  the  meeting  adjourned?  We  thought  you'd 
make  straight  for  home  on  this  great  old  night !" 

Great  old  night !  What  were  they  talking  about? 
She  leaned  closer  to  hear. 

"Colt  thought  he'd  cleaned  you  out,  eh?  Picked 
your  feathers.  Never  occurred  to  the  old  boy  that 
your  brokers  would  see  you  through.  You  had  me 
going,  too !  Why  didn't  you  let  on  that  Transatlan- 
tic was  reeking  with  money?" 

Rogers  broke  in:  "Did  you  see  Colt's  face  when 
the  proxies  were  counted  and  you  had  a  hundred 
shares  majority?  Elected  your  entire  board — gad! 
that  was  worth  the  price  of  admission !" 

Decker  shook  his  head.  "But  that  thirty  per 
cent,  cash  dividend !  I  never  dreamed  we  could  de- 
clare it — you  kept  the  secret  pretty  close,  Bill !  Not 
one  of  us  knew  the  earnings  were  so  big !" 

"Wait  until  you  read  my  editorial  in  tomorrow's 
paper,"  shouted  Graves.  "It's  a  masterpiece 
of " 

Pattison  interrupted  with  a  roar  of  delight.  "But 
what  finished  Colt  was  when  Ditson  got  up  on  his 
hind  legs  and  tried  to  worry  you  with  the  points  he 


The  Road  of  Ambition  445 

raised — and  to  think  you  met  them  all — yes,  and 
beat  them,  too!  You  weren't  satisfied  to  have  the 
business  end  of  Transatlantic  in  A-One  condition, 
were  you  ?  Had  to  have  the  legal  end  of  it  satisfac- 
tory, too  I" 

Daphne  shrank  back,  staring.  So  he  had  been 
saved — by  some  miracle — he  had  been  saved — all 
she  had  done  had  been  for  nothing.  If  he  had  but 
let  her  know — she  straightened  up.  He  should  have 
done  that.  He  would  have  had  he  cared — and  now 
when  she  had  sacrificed  everything — everything— he 
doubted  her — turned  from  her.  She  moved  away 
cautiously — she  crept  to  a  small  French  window 
opening  into  the  music  room.  She  entered  softly — 
no  one  would  come  in  there.  She  dropped  on  a 
chair.  She  felt  very  weak — very  faint. 

She  could  hear  the  bursts  of  laughter — Pattison's 
voice  rising  in  a  bellow  of  mirth.  Bill  was  silent — 
but  they  did  not  seem  to  notice  that  in  their  elation. 

After  a  long  while  they  began  to  depart.  She 
heard  their  shouted  farewells — their  cheers — the 
boom  of  the  heavy  front  door — then  there  fell  a 
thick,  warm,  enveloping  silence.  .  .  . 

She  rose  to  her  feet — she  felt  giddy  and  dazed, 
but  she  moved  forward — she  must  know  the  truth 
tonight — she  had  always  said  if  he  did  not  want  her 
— did  not  need  her.  .  .  .  She  came  face  to  face 
with  him  in  the  hall.  He  started  back,  and  she  saw 
the  recoil  in  his  eyes.  She  waited  for  him  to  speak. 


446  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  demanded 
harshly.  She  shook  her  head. 

"Bill,"  she  said  softly,  "will  you  let  me  tell  you 
about  it — will  you  listen ?" 

He  turned  on  her.  "No,  no!"  he  said  sharply. 
"I  will  hear  nothing " 

She  drew  herself  up.  "Very  well,"  she  said,  "you 
need  not." 

She  passed  him  and  mounted  the  stairs.  Half-way 
up,  she  turned.  He  was  standing  where  she  had  left 
him,  his  head  bowed. 

"Bill !"  she  cried,  a  sob  in  her  voice. 

He  stiffened.  "I  want  to  hear  nothing,"  he  re- 
peated dully. 

The  color  flamed  into  her  face,  but  she  did  not 
speak  again.  Instead,  she  hurried  to  her  room.  She 
groped  blindly  for  the  light — she  was  afraid  of  the 
darkness — a  sudden  trembling  seized  her. 

It  was  strange  that  in  that  black  moment  Phil's 
words  should  flash  before  her — words  she  had 
scarcely  heard:  "May  Larabee  told  you  you'd  find 
her  here."  May  Larabee.  That  meant  Bill  had 
seen  the  woman — talked  with  her — had  found  time 
in  the  midst  of  the  panic  to  listen  to  her  evil  tales ! 
There  was  something  this  woman  could  give  him  that 
she  could  not — something  that  made  him  turn  to  her 
instead  of  to  his  wife.  .  .  . 

She  dragged  a  heavy  coat  from  her  closet  and 
pulled  it  on  with  trembling  fingers — she  found  her 


The  Road  of  Ambition  447 

purse — go !  She  would  go  to  the  ends  of  the  world 
if  necessary!  He  had  not  needed  her  throughout 
his  struggle,  he  had  not  needed  her  in  his  hour  of 
triumph — but,  May  Larabee  .  .  . 

She  switched  off  the  light  and  waited,  listening. 
There  was  no  sound  from  below.  She  moved  down 
the  stairs  and  through  the  dim  hallway.  She  found 
the  window  unlocked  through  which  she  had  entered. 
She  stepped  out  into  the  clear  moonlight.  For  a 
moment  she  wavered,  then  she  shook  her  head.  "He 
doesn't  need  me,"  she  whispered.  She  ran  down  the 
steps.  .  .  . 

Tony  burst  in  upon  Nedda.  "He  beat  him — he 
beat  old  Colt  to  a  standstill — and  Mack  took  me 
with  the  rest  up  to  his  house — everyone  was  there — 
you  never  heard  such  shoutin' — Pattison  carryin'  on 
like  a  kid " 

"Tell  me  more!"  cried  Nedda.  "What  did  Bill 
say — what  did  he  do  ?" 

"He  let  them  do  the  sayin' — they  was  as  tickled 
about  it  as  if  they'd  done  it  themselves." 

She  clasped  her  hands,  her  eyes  eager.  "And  his 
wife,  Tony,  was  she  glad,  too — was  she  proud  and 
happy  and " 

Tony  paused  and  shook  his  head.  "His  wife? 
Why,  that's  funny,  Nedda.  I  didn't  see  her  any- 
wheres around." 

"Are  you  sure,  Tony?" 


448  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Yep,  there  were  only  men  there." 

Nedda  caught  her  breath.  "I  hate  her,"  she  said 
swiftly. 

Tony  stared  at  her.  "Hate  who?"  But  Nedda 
shook  her  head. 

"Nothin',  Tony.  Tell  me  more — was  Benson 
there?  What  did  he  say?  Go  on — tell  me  from  the 
beginning — everythin'  that  happened  to  Bill." 

And  Tony,  delighted  to  have  an  audience,  plunged 
eagerly  into  the  story. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  DARK  HOUR 

"DILL  paced  his  room  with  swift  strides.  The 
•*^  darkness  was  intolerable.  With  shaking  hands, 
he  switched  on  the  light.  It  flooded  the  room.  He 
stared  about  dully.  The  very  chairs  and  tables — 
the  pictures  on  the  wall  seemed  unreal.  Perhaps 
they  were  part  of  this  nightmare  from  which  he 
would  soon  awake — he  would  open  his  eyes  to  find 
Daphne  waiting  for  him — her  eyes  tender,  her  lips 
smiling.  .  .  . 

His  world  had  tumbled  about  his  ears.  He  was 
powerless  to  do  aught  but  stare  at  the  ruins.  .  .  . 
He  would  have  staked  his  life  on  her  love.  .  .  . 

He  clenched  his  hands.  Perhaps  he  had  been  to 
blame.  Perhaps  he  had  left  her  too  much  alone — 
given  too  much  of  himself  to  his  work,  and  yet  it 
was  all  for  her  that  he  battled  each  day — all  for 
her.  .  .  .  His  heart,  brutally  honest,  challenged 
this.  Was  it  for  her?  Was  it  not  the  love  of  the 
game  itself  that  kept  him  at  his  desk  day  and  night, 
week  in  and  week  out?  Yes — he  must  face  the  thing 
squarely — he  must  not  shrink  from  the  truth ! 

Suddenly  he  wondered  what  they  would  do  with 
449 


45°  The  Road  of  Ambition 

their  lives  from  now  on.  There  were  long  years 
stretching  ahead.  He  could  not  conceive  a  life  apart 
from  her.  He  was  all  at  once  poignantly  aware  of 
what  she  had  come  to  mean  to  him — her  sympathy — 
her  tenderness — and  he  had  forfeited  them,  for 
what?  .  .  . 

The  triumph  he  had  won  that  day  was  a  bitter 
thing.  He  had  hoped  to  bring  her  news  of  his  vic- 
tory. He  had  thought  of  her  as  he  struggled.  He 
had  hurried  home,  May's  ugly  words  forgotten. 
But  Daphne  had  not  been  there  and  the  first  stab  of 
surprise — of  fear — pricked  him.  She  was  not  at  her 
father's — nor  any  of  her  friends  ! 

"I  think  I  saw  her  turning  into  Colt's,"  someone 
had  volunteered. 

At  the  words  his  mounting  passion  became  a  red 
flame  that  destroyed  his  power  to  reason — that  left 
him  a  helpless  creature  of  impulse.  He  had  gone 
straight  to  Colt.  But  strangely  enough  the  meeting 
was  indistinct — all  he  remembered  was  Daphne's 
face  as  she  stepped  from  behind  the  curtain — that 
was  stamped  indelibly  on  his  mind — she  had  looked 
so  white — so  helpless — her  eyes  fixed  on  his  in  an 
agonized  appeal.  .  .  . 

What  was  it  she  had  said?  "I  came  here  to  save 
you.  ..."  What  did  she  mean  by  that?  She 
wanted  to  tell  him  something,  but  he  would  not  lis- 
ten— he  had  been  afraid  to — but  what  if  he  had  mis- 
judged her !  The-  hope  leaped  up  within  him  like  a 


The  Dark  Hour  451 

"ray  of  light  in  darkness — he  must  hear  the  truth 
from  her  lips  I  now — at  once  I 

He  crossed  the  hall.  He  rapped  on  her  door. 
There  was  no  answer.  He  opened  it.  The  room 
was  empty.  He  called  her  maid. 

"I  saw  her  go  out  not  ten  minutes  ago,  sir,"  she 
told  him.  He  stared  at  her.  Out!  .  .  .  Then 
seizing  her,  he  questioned  her  roughly,  until,  fright- 
ened by  his  manner,  she  began  to  sob.  He  flung  her 
from  him  and  ran  down  the  stairs. 

The  maid,  her  curiosity  overcoming  her  fear, 
leaned  over  the  bannister,  staring  after  him.  She 
motioned  the  butler  to  stop  him,  but  Bill  thrust  the 
man  aside  and  plunged  down  the  steps. 

Colt!  Colt!  He  must  get  hold  of  Colt!  That 
was  where  she  had  gone — that  was  where  he  would 
find  her — and  when  he  did  .  .  . 

Once  outside,  he  stared  about  him.  He  would 
make  no  mistake  this  time.  .  .  .  He  should  never 
have  let  Colt  go!  That  was  where  he  had  blun- 
dered. He  hurried  down  the  road  muttering  to 
himself.  .  .  . 

Colt's  big  house — a  palace  of  white  granite — 
loomed  before  him.  Bill  turned  in  at  the  gate.  He 
started  up  the  drive.  Suddenly  he  stopped  short, 
staring.  Before  the  door  stood  a  red  racer — Phil's 
— there  was  no  other  car  like  it  in  Bethel.  ...  So 
he  had  come  in  time !  They  were  about  to  take  flight. 
He  grinned  to  himself — just  in  time.  He  ran  for- 


452  The  Road  of  Ambition 

ward,  fearing  they  might  be  off  before  he  reached  it. 
But  it  was  empty.  He  pressed  back  in  the  shadow 
of  a  clump  of  bushes.  They  could  not  escape  him 
now! 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  front  door  was 
flung  open,  and  Phil  ran  down  the  steps,  behind  him 
appeared  the  butler. 

"Hurry  as  quick  as  you  can,  sir,"  he  called  as  he 
shut  the  door. 

Phil  sprang  to  the  seat,  but  not  before  Bill  had 
leaped  to  his  side. 

"No  you  don't  I"  he  growled.    "Not  so  fast/' 

Philip  turned  with  a  cry,  shrinking  back,  then  he 
tried  to  thrust  him  away,  but  Bill  pinioned  his  arms 
in  a  vise-like  grip. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Matthews,  let  me  go — my 
father's  been  taken  ill — he " 

"Your  father!"  grinned  Bill;  then  his  voice 
changed  to  a  snarl.  "Where  is  she?  What  have 
you  done  with  her?" 

Phil  stared  at  him.  "Done  with  who  ?  I  tell  you, 
Matthews,  every  minute  counts — I'm  on  my  way  to 
the  doctor's  now — get  in  if  you  want  to  talk,  but  let 

M 

me  go 

Bill  shook  his  head,  as  though  he  had  not  heard. 
"Where  is  she?"  he  repeated  thickly,  "quick!" 

Phil  caught  his  breath.  "Daphne? — do  you  mean 
Daphne?" 

Bill  watched  him  narrowly.    "If  you  don't  tell  me 


The  Dark  Hour  453 

where  I  can  find  her  I'll  finish  what  I  started  this 
afternoon!  .  .  ." 

Phil  shrank  back,  his  face  white.  "So  help  me, 
Matthews,  I  haven't  seen  her — she  left  right  after 
you  did  and  a  few  minutes  later  father  came  home. 
He  was  all  in — but  he  had  a  bad  turn  just  now. 
Wants  the  doctor — that's  where  I'm  off  to  now " 

"I  don't  believe  you,"  said  Bill  quietly;  "you're 
on  your  way  to  meet  her — but  I'll  give  you  a  chance. 
If  you're  telling  the  truth  get  out  and  ring  your 
bell,  and  let  me  question  the  butler." 

Phil  sprang  from  the  car  and  hurried  up  the  steps. 
The  butler  appeared.  When  he  saw  Colt,  he  fell 
back. 

"Good  Heavens,  sir,  ain't  you  gone  yet?  Your 
father'll  be  dead  before  help  comes  I" 

Philip  turned  to  Bill.  "Now,  do  you  believe  me?" 
he  cried.  "Now  will  you?" 

"If  she  hasn't  come  to  you,  where  has  she  gone?" 
Bill  cut  him  short. 

Phil  shook  his  head.  "If  she  thought  you  doubted 
her  she'd  go  anywhere  rather  than  stay  with  you." 

Bill  caught  his  arm.  "Colt,"  he  said,  "what  made 
her  come  to  you  in  the  first  place — tell  me  the  truth 
and  I'll  let  you  go." 

"On  your  word  of  honor?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you'll  keep  your  hands  off?" 

"Yes." 


454  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"She  came  to  me  because  I  promised  to  help  her 
if  she  did." 

"Help  her?" 

"Yes.  Can't  you  see?  She'd  heard  you  were 
being  smashed,  that  my  father  was  doing  it.  She 
came  to  ask  me  to  pull  you  out  of  the  hole.  She 
brought  her  jewels,  thinking  I  could  turn  them  into 
money  for  her.  I  couldn't  stand  seeing  her  plead 
for  another  man — so  I  lost  my  head — then  I  saw  I 
could  make  trouble  between  you  by  lying — and  I  did 
— that's  the  truth,  Matthews — so  help  me — that's 
the  truth !  Now  then,  can  I  go  ?" 

Bill  flung  him  from  him.  "Yes — go,"  he  whis- 
pered. 

He  heard  the  hum  of  the  motor  as  the  car  shot 
forward,  but  he  did  not  move.  He  was  stunned — 
dazed — Daphne  had  gone !  he  had  driven  her  away ! 
.  .  .  Never  until  that  moment  did  he  know  how 
much  he  loved  her — it  came  to  him  with  a  blinding 
force.  He  must  find  her — must  beg  her  to  forgive 
him — could  she  ever  forget  that  he  had  doubted  her? 

He  hurried  home,  perhaps  she  had  already  re- 
turned, but  in  answer  to  the  question  in  his  eyes  the 
butler  shook  his  head.  No,  she  had  not  come — he 
ordered  the  car,  then  he  caught  up  the  telephone. 
There  would  be  some  way  to  find  her — he  must  think 
—think ! 

He  called  her  father  first  of  all.    Judge  Van  Steer, 


The  Dark  Hour  455 

sensing  the  tenseness  in  Bill's  voice,  inquired 
if  anything  were  wrong.  No,  Daphne  was  not  there. 
Bill  reassured  him  and  hung  up. 

He  tried  Rosaline  Rogers,  but  her  maid  informed 
him  that  Miss  Rogers  was  away  for  the  week  end — 
no,  Mrs.  Matthews  had  not  rung  up. 

Pattison!  Perhaps  he  had  seen  her.  Pattison  an- 
swered jovially,  but  at  Bill's  sharp  questions,  his 
tone  changed. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Matthews?  You're  not 
really  anxious,  are  you?  She'll  be  in  any  minute. 
You're  like  an  old  hen  with  her  only  chick!  Can't 
you  let  her  out  of  sight  for  an  instant?"  Then,  re- 
calling her  conversation  of  the  afternoon,  he  went 
on:  "By  the  way,  she  rang  me  up  and  asked  if  I 
couldn't  do  something  to  help  you.  She  seemed 
awfully  cut  up  about  it.  Why  didn't  you  keep  her 
posted?" 

Bill  answered  heavily.  "I  didn't  know  she'd  hear 
about  the  panic.  I  wanted  to  wait  until  things  came 
out  O.  K.— I'm  a  fool " 

"Oh,  cheer  up,"  grinned  Pattison;  "can't  the  lady 
be  out  when  you  get  home  without  your  telephon- 
ing all  the  neighbors?" 

Bill  rang  off — his  hands  were  trembling — where 
had  she  gone?  Suddenly  he  caught  up  the  receiver. 
"Give  me  the  station,"  he  whispered. 

He  did  not  know  what  impelled  him  to  do  it.  He 
was  certain  Daphne  would  never  leave  Bethel  alone 


456  The  Road  of  Ambition 

at  night.  And  yet — Phil's  words  rang  in  his  ears. 
"If  she  thought  you  doubted  her  she'd  go  anywhere 
rather  than  stay  with  you.  ..." 

The  station-master  answered.  "This  is  Mr.  Mat- 
thews," said  Bill  quickly.  "You  know  my  wife  when 
you  see  her,  Miller;  did  she  leave  by  the  night  ex- 
press? I've  just  come  home  from  a  meeting  and 
have  learned  she  was  called  away." 

There  came  a  long  pause,  and  Bill  waited  tensely, 
then  he  straightened  up  with  relief.  The  station- 
master  was  speaking. 

"No,  sir,  I  haven't  seen  Mrs.  Matthews  buy  a 
ticket  here  this  evening  and  I  know  her  well  by 
sight." 

"Thank  goodness!"  breathed  Bill,  so  she  had  not 
left  Bethel! 

"Wait  a  moment,"  came  Miller's  voice,  "my  clerk 
says  he  heard  her  ask  a  little  boy  to  purchase  a  ticket 
for  her — yes — he's  sure — he  says  he  spoke  to  her, 
and  that  she  didn't  answer.  What's  that,  sir?  Oh, 
the  first  stop  is  Winston — train  gets  there  eight  fif- 
teen." 

Bill  dropped  the  receiver  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 
She  had  left  by  the  night  express!  alone!  Where 
was  she  going?  .  .  .  What  could  he  do  before  it 
was  too  late? 

The  first  stop  was  Winston — Graver  lived  there 
— head  of  the  Winston  Bank — Graver  would  do  it 
for  him.  He  called  Winston  and  waited  impatiently 


The  Dark  Hour  457 

for  the  connection — would  they  never  get  Graver  on 
the  wire?  Craver  was  at  home — he  was  eager  to 
serve  Bill — yes,  anything  he  could  do — of  course. 

"Go  down  to  the  station,  meet  the  Express.  My 
wife's  on  board,  you  know  her,  Craver.  Go  to  her 
and  tell  her  there's  been  a  mistake.  That's  all — ask 
her  to  get  off  and  wait  at  the  Winston  House  for 
me.  .  .  .  I'm  starting  for  there  by  motor  now. 
Tell  her  I'm  coming  to  get  her — yes — yes — Craver, 
don't  fail  to  meet  that  train !  .  .  ." 

He  rang  off.  His  motor  was  at  the  door.  He 
leaped  in.  He  gave  a  sharp  command  to  the  chauf- 
feur; then  he  sank  back  on  the  cushions — the  rest  of 
his  life  would  be  an  atonement  if  only  she  would  for- 
give him.  "She  will!"  he  cried,  "she  must.  .  .  ." 

The  train  rushed  through  the  night.  It  sped  by 
black  fields  and  valleys — it  rumbled  across  long 
bridges  with  dark,  sluggish  water  beneath.  Inside, 
the  lamps  were  lighted,  and  above  the  click  of  the 
wheels  rose  the  chatter  of  voices — the  whine  of  a 
baby — the  noisy  rustle  of  papers. 

Daphne,  hunched  in  her  corner,  staring  out, 
neither  saw  nor  heard.  Twice  the  conductor  asked 
for  her  ticket,  and  at  length  touched  her  arm.  She 
looked  at  him  with  unseeing  eyes,  as  she  fumbled  for 
it.  He  studied  her  with  kindly  curiosity — that 
woman  was  in  trouble  or  his  guess  was  wrong.  .  .  . 
He'd  seen  them  that  way  before.  .  .  . 


458  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  turned  back  to  the  thoughts  from  which  there 
was  no  escape — Bill  had  refused  to  listen  to  her — 
had  thrust  her  away.  Never  for  an  instant  had  she 
dreamed  he  would  doubt  her.  How  could  he,  when 
her  surrender  had  been  so  complete — when  she  had 
again  and  again  proved  her  love  for  him ! 

She  tried  to  recall  the  beginning  of  the  change  in 
him.  It  was  an  insidious  thing — gradual  accumula- 
tion of  work  which  thrust  her  more  and  more  into  the 
background.  She  had  fought  valiantly  for  her  place 
— had  striven  to  keep  pace  with  his  thoughts — his  in- 
terests— but  while  he  tolerated  her,  he  had  not 
seemed  to  need  her.  His  work  was  his  first  love — 
not  she — she  was  second — or  was  it  third?  .  .  . 

She  shuddered  and  pressed  her  cheek  to  the  cool 
pane.  The  window  served  as  a  mirror,  in  it  she 
could  glimpse  a  vague  outline  of  her  head — of  her 
long,  white  throat — her  curved  lips,  her  deep-set 
eyes — he  had  said  she  was  beautiful — and  yet  that 
had  not  satisfied  him. 

She  did  not  know  where  she  was  going.  Conscious 
only  of  one  desire — to  be  off — to  feel  the  distance 
between  them  widening — she  had  taken  the  first  train 
that  left  Bethel — yes,  though  the  pain  of  the  thought 
stabbed  her  like  a  knife,  she  was  determined  never 
to  return — never  .  .  .  and  quite  suddenly  her  lips 
formed  a  prayer,  "God!"  she  prayed,  "Make  him 
miss  me — make  him  want  me !"  She  fell  to  crying 
softly. 


The  Dark  Hour  459 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  crash  came  .  .  . 
with  such  overpowering  suddenness — :with  such  a 
grinding  of  brakes — a  crashing  of  wood — a  splin- 
tering of  glass  that  it  snapped  off  her  consciousness 
for  the  instant.  When  she  opened  her  eyes  she  saw 
darkness — all  about  her — heavy  darkness,  pressing  - 
her  down  like  a  weight. 

Then  she  heard  cries — inarticulate  sounds — from 
nowhere.  She  tried  to  rise,  but  she  was  held  fast  by 
something  solid — she  struggled  against  it,  but  in 
vain — from  its  polished  surface  she  felt  it  was  wood 
— she  understood  in  a  flash — the  collision  had  turned 
the  car  over — her  one  hope  lay  in  finding  the  win- 
dow— where  was  it — beneath  her?  Above  her? 

She  set  her  teeth  and  beat  at  the  wood  that  im- 
prisoned her — dragging  her  gloves  from  her  hands 
— turning  her  face  up — battling  for  air — and  as  she 
strained  there  came  to  her  the  sharp,  acrid  odor  of 
burning  wood.  She  shrank  back — trembling — she 
was  conscious  of  a  sudden  pain  in  her  side — it  was 
curious  she  had  not  felt  it  before — would  they  never 
come ! — would  they  never  let  her  out !  Suddenly  she 
raised  her  voice  in  a  cry — it  was  but  one  of  the  many 
strange  sounds — no  one  would  hear  her — she  made 
another  effort — beating  her  fists  against  the  wood — 
then  she  sank  back — the  pungent  smell  of  smoke  set 
her  choking — she  shut  her  eyes — after  all,  what  did 
it  matter?  .  .  . 

The  lights  of  Winston  gleamed  rosily  through  the 


460  The  Road  of  Ambition 

darkness.  .  .  .  Bill,  his  muscles  relaxed  for  an  in- 
stant, leaned  back.  "At  last  I"  he  whispered  through 
white  lips,  "at  last!  ..."  He  glanced  at  his 
watch.  It  was  after  twelve — the  street  seemed 
strangely  full  of  people — hurrying  this  way  and  that 
— he  wondered  where  they  were  bound — then  he  for- 
got them  in  the  fear  that  had  tortured  him  each  min- 
ute of  the  way — had  she  waited  for  him — would  she 
be  there?  .  .  . 

"Which  way,  sir?"  asked  the  chauffeur,  slowing 
down.  Bill  waved  his  hand  to  the  left.  .  .  .  What 
if  Graver  had  failed  to  meet  her  .  .  .  had  missed 
connections?  .  .  . 

He  did  not  wait  for  the  car  to  stop,  but  leaped  out 
and  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  Winston  House. 

"Daphne!"  he  cried  softly,  "Daphne!" 

The  lobby  was  choked  with  men — little  knots  of 
them  talking  in  hushed,  tense  voices.  He  scanned 
their  faces  for  a  view  of  Graver — a  sudden  relief 
swept  over  him  and  left  him  weak  as  he  glimpsed  him 
at  a  far  corner  of  the  room.  He  pushed  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  reached  Graver's  side. 

"Well,  I  got  here  at  last!"  he  shouted  to  hide  his 
terror. 

Graver  turned.  He  was  a  round-faced  little  man 
with  a  ready  smile,  but  he  was  not  smiling  now.  In- 
stead, his  face  was  a  pasty  white,  his  eyes  round  with 
horror.  He  looked  particularly  small  and  ineffective 
in  his  panic.  He  stared  at  Bill  without  speaking 


The  Dark  Hour  461 

and  Bill,  a  sudden  fear  crushing  him,  caught  his 
arm.  "You  didn't  miss  her,  did  you?" 

Graver  shook  his  head;  he  seemed  totally  unable 
to  make  a  sound — little  round  beads  of  perspiration 
stood  out  on  his  forehead  and  on  his  upper  lip. 

Bill  shook  him.  "What  is  it,  Graver?  Wouldn't 
she  wait  ?  Wouldn't  she  listen  ?" 

"No,"  said  Graver  dully,  "it  isn't  that,  Matthews 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  he  cried.    "What  is  it?" 

Graver  moistened  his  lips.  "There's  been  an  ac- 
cident," he  said. 

Bill  stared  at  him.  "An  accident"  .  .  .  then  the 
pent-up  suffering  of  the  past  hours  gave  vent  in  a 
ery,  "Graver,  say  she's  not  hurt " 

Graver  shook  his  head.    "No — she's  not  hurt." 

Bill  caught  his  arm  eagerly.  "Not  hurt — then 
take  me  to  her — where  is  she — where " 

Graver  patted  Bill's  hand — he  seemed  struggling 
desperately  for  words — at  length  he  shrugged  help- 
lessly, "I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you " 

Bill  stared  at  him.  "She's  dead!"  he  cried  sud- 
denly, "she's  dead!" 

The  men  who  had  been  listening,  moved  away 
with  lowered  eyes.  Graver,  as  though  the  spell  had 
been  broken,  spoke  hurriedly — jerkily: 

"There  was  a  fire  after  the  wreck — that  made  it 
worse — you  couldn't  identify  them — but  we  found 
her  purse — and  this " 


462  The  Road  of  Ambition 

Bill  stared  down  at  Graver's  outstretched  hand. 
In  it  lay  the  jade  bracelet.  He  took  it  mechanically, 
turning  it  over  and  over. 

"That's  all,"  said  Graver,  then  he  burst  out,  "I'd 
give  ten  years  of  my  life  to  have  spared  you 
this!  .  .  ." 

Bill  did  not  reply — he  examined  the  bracelet  with 
a  curious  intentness — one  side  had  been  cruelly 
dented,  but  the  jade  was  intact — two  little  serpents 
with  green  heads  entwined — just  the  color  of  her 
eyes  .  .  .  just  the  color  of  her  eyes.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE   CRISIS 

T)  ETHEL  lay  crushed  beneath  the  tragedy  that 
•*-*  had  befallen  Big  Bill  Matthews.  The  new 
day  dawned — a  day  which  found  men  stern  of  face, 
with  heads  averted,  which  found  women  wrung  with 
pity  for  the  man  who  had  returned  alone  to  the  great 
house  on  the  hill. 

The  morning  papers  told  the  story  of  the  wreck, 
and  Bethel,  reading,  was  stirred  to  its  very  depths. 
Incongruously  enough  on  the  same  page  blazed  the 
news  of  Transatlantic's  triumph — a  detailed  account 
of  its  earnings  which  would  send  the  stock  bound- 
ing— which  would  more  than  insure  the  man's  for- 
tune. 

And  as  though  not  content  with  juggling  tragedy 
and  triumph  thus  grotesquely, — fate  had  given  him 
yet  another  gift — he  had  received  the  nomination  for 
governor  of  the  state.  .  .  . 

In  glowing  phrases  the  press  praised  him — a  man 
who  had  appeared  repeatedly  in  the  public  eye  as 
a  friend  of  labor — a  candidate  who  was  not  only  a 
trained  business  man  but  beloved  by  the  people  as 
well — a  man  who  had  lived  up  to  his  ideals! — Di- 
463 


464  The  Road  of  Ambition 

rectly  beneath  was  an  eyewitness'  account  of  the 
wreck  at  Winston — a  two-column  spread  which 
spared  no  details — the  cries  of  women — the  shouts 
of  men  .  .  . 

A  wave  of  boundless  sympathy  flowed  toward 
Bill.  The  men  at  the  Works  who  loved  him  as  a 
comrade  drew  near  with  wet  cheeks  and  dumb  lips 
— rough,  shabby  men  who  scarcely  knew  what  it  was 
to  weep. 

"Didn't  he  help  me  when  my  kid  had  typhoid? — 
come  down  himself  to  see  she  had  proper  care  and 
feedin' " 

"What  would  we  have  done  last  winter  without 
him?" 

"Many's  the  night  I  seen  him  talkin'  to  the  boys 
— listenin'  to  their  troubles " 

Yes,  they  were  profoundly  grieved  in  an  awkward, 
helpless  way — wishing  with  all  their  souls  he  would 
call  on  them  to  serve  him — hoping  for  a  chance  to 
thereby  prove  their  devotion. 

But  no  one  could  reach  him — the  rich — the  poor 
— the  middle  class — an  unending  stream  of  friends 
that  stormed  his  door — all  met  with  the  same  re- 
sponse. 

"No,  he  won't  see  you — it's  no  use — he  won't  see 
any  one — I'll  tell  him  you  called." 

Pattison,  his  face  flushed,  his  heart  full  of  the 
deepest  emotion  he  had  ever  known,  alone  persisted 
in  an  effort  to  reach  Bill,  he  even  stooped  to  bribery. 


The  Crisis  465 

"I've  got  to  see  him!"  he  stormed.  "Some  one 
has  to — we  can't  let  him  face  this  thing  alone." 

But  the  servant  was  firm.  "He  said  no  one  was 
to  be  admitted,  sir — perhaps  later — I'll  let  you 
know " 

The  morning  sun,  a  flagrantly  brilliant  sun — crept 
beneath  the  drawn  shade  of  Daphne's  room — it  fell, 
a  yellow  patch  upon  her  rug.  In  the  gloom  of  the 
darkened  room  it  seemed  a  joyous  thing — a  spirit 
of  outdoors — telling  of  blue  skies — of  fresh  fields. 

Bill,  seated  there  alone — his  arms  folded,  stared 
dully  at  the  sunlight — stared  with  a  flash  of  resent- 
ment— it  seemed  so  vividly  alive — dancing  saucily 
on  the  rug — suddenly  he  arose,  moved  by  a  quick 
impulse — flung  up  the  shade — letting  in  a  rush  of 
light. 

"She  loved  it,"  he  said  impatiently.  "It  was  part 
of  her — yes,  it  was  part  of  her." 

He  moved  about  softly — there  stood  his  picture 
on  the  dressing  table — another  of  him  on  the  wall 
where  she  could  see  it  from  her  bed — and  yet  an- 
other on  the  bureau — a  snapshot  taken  of  him  in  the 

woods In  the  woods! — that  was  where  they 

had  first  come  to  know  each  other — she  had  wanted 
to  go  back  but  he  would  not — there  had  been  too 
much  to  do.  Too  much  to  do.  ... 

The  thought  was  a  torture  to  him — he  stared 
about  with  hot  eyes,  then  flung  himself  from  the 


466  The  Road  of  Ambition 

room  .  .  .  but  each  corner  of  the  house  called  up 
an  image  of  her.  The  music  room — he  could  see 
her  beneath  the  lamp  surrounded  by  her  gay  court 
— his  study — he  could  almost  fancy  her  curled  up 
on  his  couch — her  chin  in  her  hand,  listening  to  his 
plans — his  dreams — the  entrance  hall — here  she 
greeted  him  at  nights  with  arms  outstretched  and 
eager  lips.  .  .  .  Each  room  held  the  whisper  of 
her  presence — the  sound  of  her  voice.  He  could 
not  stay  there — he  could  not  stay  there.  And  yet 
he  could  not  drag  himself  away.  .  .  . 

This  was  madness — he  must  find  something  to  do 
— something  at  once — then  he  thought  of  his  work 
— that  was  it.  Work.  He  had  always  said  it  made 
the  world  go  round — that  would  save  him — he  must 
get  back  to  it  at  once ! 

Next  day  he  sent  for  Pattison.  He  did  not  seem 
to  see  his  friend's  flushed  face,  nor  feel  the  extra 
pressure  of  his  fingers. 

"Feel  up  to  taking  a  bit  of  a  spin?"  asked  Pat- 
tison, awkwardly,  to  bridge  the  sudden  silence. 

Bill  nodded.    "Yes,  I  think  I'd  like  that." 

Pattison  marvelled  at  his  calm — at  his  level  voice 
and  quiet  manner — he  did  not  quite  know  what  he 
had  expected  to  find  but  surely  not  this.  Bill  was 
bearing  up  splendidly — no  doubt  of  that!  Once 
outdoors,  Bill  spoke  casually  of  business,  of  return- 
ing to  his  office — asked  careful  questions  about  mat- 
ters that  had  arisen  in  his  absence. 


The  Crisis  467 

"He's  not  going  to  let  this  thing  crush  him," 
thought  Pattison,  with  infinite  relief.  At  length  he 
broached  the  nomination. 

"You  got  it,  Matthews,  on  the  second  ballot,"  he 
said,  half  afraid  he  should  not  have  spoken,  but  Bill 
nodded.  "I  thought  I  would — Dugan  seemed  pretty 
sure,"  was  all  he  said. 

Pattison  left  him  at  his  door.  He  felt  much  easier 
about  him.  After  all  Matthews  had  always  been  de- 
voted to  his  work — there  was  no  getting  away  from 
that !  Well,  it  was  going  to  be  his  salvation  in  this 
crisis. 

Bill  watched  him  out  of  sight  with  the  little  smile 
still  on  his  lips,  then  he  entered  the  house.  He 
passed  the  butler  with  a  casual  word,  an  inquiry 
about  a  caller.  He  mounted  the  stairs,  his  shoulders 
straight,  his  step  firm.  He  entered  Daphne's  room, 
and  shut  the  door. 

Suddenly  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 
"Daphne!"  he  cried  aloud,  "I  can't  go  on — 
I  can't "  and  he  began  to  sob  with  the  deep  rack- 
ing sobs  that  tear  a  man's  soul. 

He  accepted  the  nomination  with  the  same  quiet 
gravity — he  listened  to  Dugan's  words  of  praise. 
He  went  to  his  desk  each  day  and  toiled  until  late — 
he  met  men  with  whom  he  had  to  do  business — he  did 
not  shrink  from  interviews — he  planned  anew — they 
must  make  steel  helmets — the  army  was  going  to 


468  The  Road  of  Ambition 

need  them — not  a  steel  helmet  in  America — let 
Bethel  be  the  first  to  turn  them  out. 

He  learned.of  Colt's  collapse — of  May  Larabee's 
hurried  departure  for  parts  unknown — to  all  ques- 
tions he  responded  fitly,  and  yet  it  seemed  at  times 
as  though  what  he  heard  passed  over  him — as 
though  he  brought  his  attention  to  a  focus  with  a  dis- 
tinct effort. 

Mack  and  Tony  watched  over  him  with  anxious 
eyes.  They  saw  the  change  in  him — a  change  so 
subtle  that  there  was  no  putting  your  finger  on  it. 
It  was  merely  that  he  smoked  incessantly,  that  his 
hands  trembled,  that  his  eyes  looked  as  though  he 
had  not  slept. 

Mack  ventured  to  speak  of  it.  "You  ain't  gettin' 
the  proper  rest,  Bill,"  he  said,  his  old  face  quivering 
with  anxiety.  Bill  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
"Don't  worry  about  me,  Mack.  You  know  I  never 
did  need  much  sleep — there's  too  much  to  be 
done " 

"Yes,"  said  Mack,  "but  you  ain't  in  no  fit  shape 
to  do  it!" 

It  was  at  the  end  of  two  weeks  that  Pattison,  call- 
ing at  the  Transatlantic  office  on  a  matter  of  great 
importance,  found  Bill's  desk  deserted,  and  Davis, 
his  secretary,  consumed  with  anxiety.  "He  never 
fails  to  let  us  know  if  he  expects  to  be  detained — I 
can't  imagine  what's  keeping  him." 


The  Crisis  469 

Pattison  determined  to  find  out,  and  hurried  to 
the  house  on  the  hill. 

Bill  welcomed  him  with  smiling  lips,  but  with  a 
certain  tenseness  about  his  jaw. 

"I  thought  you'd  come,"  he  said,  leading  the  way 
to  his  study.  "Sit  down." 

Pattison  did,  wondering  a  little  at  his  manner. 
"Was  afraid  you  might  be  laid  up,"  he  said  gruffly. 

Bill  shook  his  head,  "No,  I'm  not  laid  up.  I'm 
through." 

"Through?"  shouted  Pattison,  "through  what?" 

"Through  with  work.  I'm  not  going  back  to  the 
office,  except  to  clean  things  up." 

Pattison  stared  at  him.  "Great  Heavens,  Bill, 
you  don't  mean  that?" 

Bill  nodded.     "I  do— just  that." 

"What's  the  matter?  You  aren't  sick,  are  you — 
you " 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "No,  I'm  not  sick.  I'm  bet- 
ter than  I  was.  That's  the  reason  I'm  sure  of  my- 
self— those  first  few  days  I  couldn't  be — I  really 
thought  that  what  I  needed  was  an  overdose  of  busi- 
ness to  make  me  forget.  I've  tried,  Pattison,  I've 
honestly  tried  my  best — but  I  can't  stick  it  out  any 
longer — I'm  like  a  fire  that's  gone  out — the  spark 
that  set  me  off  is  missing — I  can't  rekindle  without 
it — I'm — -well,  I'm  ashes.  ..." 

Pattison  sprang  to  his  feet.  "You're  talking  rot, 
Matthews;  it's  because  you've  been  alone  too  much 


470  The  Road  of  Ambition 

— you've  had  a  chance  to  think — hang  it  all — that's 
bad  for  a  man  at  a  time  like  this !  Look  here,  you've 
had  a  knock-out — we  all  know  that — you've  been  liv- 
ing on  your  nerves — what  you  need  is  company — 
come  up  to  my  place  for  a  while,  let  me  take  you 
away  somewhere — a  rest " 

"That  won't  help  me.  Nothing  will.  I  tell  you, 
the  spark's  gone,  Pattison.  At  first  I  struggled  along 
with  a  notion  that  work  would  satisfy  the  cravings 
of  any  man — that  I  could  fill  up  any  gap  in  my  life 
with  a  sufficient  amount  of  it.  Well,  I  was  wrong. 
But  I  couldn't  know  better,  because  work  has  been 
a  sort  of  passion  with  me  all  my  life.  I  couldn't 
seem  to  get  fed  up  on  it — always  wanted  more — 
and  then  I  married,  and  after  a  few  weeks  I  found 
I  was  ready  to  go  back  to  the  game  again — but  with 

a  difference It  seemed  as  though  I  had  never 

worked  so  well  before — as  if  I  had  never  gone  after 
such  big  things  and  gotten  them,  too !  And  I,  in  my 
ignorance,  didn't  know  that  it  was  because  I  had  a 
woman's  love  and  strength  as  my  spark — my  incen- 
tive to  get  out  and  do  things — no — I  never  dreamed 
it !  I  thought  it  was  all  myself — 

"It's  queer,  isn't  it,  that  I  should  have  to  wait  until 
I  had  lost  her  to  find  it  out, — but  I  have,  Pattison — 
and  nothing  you  can  say — nothing  anyone  can  say 
will  change  me — you  see,  I'm  through — through  for 
all  time.  ..." 

"But  the  nomination "  breathed  Pattison. 


The  Crisis  471 

Bill  shook  his  head.  "I'm  sorry  for  Dugan,  but 
I  can't  help  that.  I've  already  sent  him  a  note  telling 
him  I  shall  have  to  refuse  it — it  isn't  too  late — as 
for  the  Transatlantic,  it's  in  good  shape  now,  and 
with  you  at  the  helm  it  will  be  clear  sailing — Benson 
can  take  my  place  as  general  manager  of  the  Works 
— I  couldn't  choose  a  better  time  to  step  out." 

"But  Matthews,"  pleaded  Pattison,  "you  won't 
always  feel  this  way — it's  just  for  the  time  being — 
you're  passing  through  this  thing  now — you've  lost 
perspective — you'll  see  it  differently  once  you  get 
away " 

Bill  smiled.  "I'll  give  that  theory  a  test,  Patti- 
son— that's  only  fair — but  I  tell  you  the  spark's 
gone." 

Tony,  with  old  Mack  at  his  heels,  waited  at  the 
door  of  the  Hope  Mission  for  Nedda. 

As  she  stepped  outside,  she  caught  sight  of  them. 
Tony,  his  face  troubled,  caught  her  arm. 

"Nedda,"  he  cried,  "we've  got  to  do  something 
about  Bill — we've  come  to  ask  you " 

She  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  "What  is  it, 
Tony?  What's  the  matter?" 

Tony  told  her,  tumbling  out  his  words  in  a  breath- 
less fashion.  "Bill's  quitting  work — selling  all  his 
stock — selling  his  house — don't  nothin'  matter  to 
him  no  more — all  his  rich  friends  have  tried  to  bring 
him  around,  but  it  didn't  work.  The  first  we  heard 


472  The  Road  of  Ambition 

of  it  was  when  he  come  in  today  and  says  goodbye 
to  us — tells  us  things  will  go  on  just  the  same  as  usual 
and  that  we  mustn't  mind  his  going  off — he  wouldn't 
look  at  us  though,  when  he  said  it — would  he,  Mack? 
We  asked  him  where  was  he  going,  but  he  wouldn't 
say — he  wouldn't  say  nothin'  only  that  we  was  not 
to  forget  that  it  was  up  to  us  to  see  that  the  men  at 
the  Works  had  a  square  deal — and  that  Bethel  kept 
on  turning  out  the  best  steel  in  the  country — but  we 
can't  let  him  go  like  that — he  don't  know  what  he's 
doin' !  He's  cuttin'  loose  from  everythin'  he  loves 
and  just  driftin' — he  won't  listen  to  us — but  he 
might  listen  to  you — Nedda,  can't  you  do  something 
to  keep  him  anchored?" 

"Me  I"  she  breathed.  "What  could  I  do  ?" 
Old  Mack  shook  his  head,  there  were  tears  in  his 
eyes.  "The  boy  ain't  been  himself  since  the  day  his 
wife  was  took — and  I  knew  it — I  says,  mark  my 
words  he's  sufferin'  inside  of  him — and  that's  the 
worst  kind — like  a  worm  at  the  heart  of  an  apple — 
but  they  wouldn't  none  of  them  listen  to  me — but 
now  they  know  I  was  right — why,  there  ain't  no 
surer  way  of  killin'  himself  than  droppin'  everythin' 
in  the  prime  of  life  with  the  whole  world  ahead  of 
him — it  isn't  natural — it  isn't  right,  and  Tony  says 
he'd  listen  to  you — why  don't  you  go  to  him,  Nedda, 
and  kind  of  talk  to  him — make  him  see  that  there's 
somethin'  left  in  life." 

"And  he  don't  think  there  is?" 


The  Crisis  473 

"No,"  said  Tony.  "I  tell  you  he  don't  care  a 
shoot  about  nothin' — all  the  things  he  was  buildin' 
up,  he  turns  over  to  someone  else — all  the  big  deals 
he  was  puttin'  over  he  cuts  loose  from — he  needs 
somebody  at  a  time  like  this — and  if  his  old  pals 
don't  stick  by  him  and  see  him  through,  who's  goin' 
to?" 

Nedda  drew  herself  up.  "All  right,  Tony,"  she 
whispered,  "I'll  go.  ...  " 

"I  knew  you  would!"  he  cried.  "I  knew  you 
would!" 

Nedda  approached  the  big  house.  She  scarcely 
heard  Tony's  whispered  admonitions,  or  Mack's 
mumbled  prayers.  With  eyes  straight  ahead,  with 
chin  raised,  her  lips  were  framing  a  song — a  song 
that  filled  her  with  a  throbbing  eagerness — a  tumult- 
ous  joy — "I'm  going  to  see  him.  .  .  .  I'm  going  to 
see  him"  .  .  .  the  voice  within  sang  silently  again 
and  again. 

"Talk  to  him  like  you  used  to,"  pleaded  Tony. 
"If  you  don't  make  him  see  it — no  one  can." 

She  nodded  and  they  left  her.  She  mounted  the 
steps,  still  with  that  sense  of  deep  elation — of  brood- 
ing tenderness — she  had  wanted  to  come  to  him  from 
the  minute  she  had  heard  of  his  trouble — but  he  did 
not  seem  to  need  her — she  had  learned  how  quickly 
he  took  up  the  reins  once  more — this  indeed  was  the 
Bill  of  old — self-reliant — strong — but  now — now — 


474  The  Road  of  Ambition 

the  gates  were  down — he  was  bruised — weary — and 
she  was  going  to  him.  .  .  . 

She  rang  the  bell.  The  butler,  at  the  sight  of  an- 
other strange  face,  drew  back.  "Mr.  Matthews  isn't 
seeing  anyone,  ma'am,"  he  announced  monotonously. 
Still  she  pressed  forward. 

"He'll  see  me,"  she  said.    "Tell  him  it's  Nedda." 

The  butler  shook  his  head.  "My  orders  are " 

"Tell  him  it's  Nedda,"  she  repeated  softly  and 
something  in  her  voice  made  him  pause — it  was  so 
infinitely  gentle — like  a  caress. 

He  left  her  in  the  great  entrance  hall,  wondering 
at  himself  as  he  did  so.  She  waited,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  door  through  which  he  had  vanished — she  did 
not  see  the  splendid  room  in  which  she  stood — the 

walls  hung  with  tapestries,  the  carved  staircase 

"He'll  see  me,"  she  whispered,  almost  as  though 
it  were  a  prayer. 

At  length  the  butler  reappeard.  Her  eyes 
searched  his  face  for  a  sign.  Had  Bill  refused? 
Had  he  shut  himself  away  from  her,  too? 

The  butler  was  speaking,  "Come  this  way,  please." 
She  did  not  move  for  an  instant — in  the  flush  of 
gladness  that  swept  over  her,  then  she  nodded.    "I'm 
coming,"  she  said. 

Bill  was  awaiting  her  in  the  doorway  of  his  study. 
She  scarcely  knew  him,  he  had  changed  so  greatly 
since  the  Factory  Street  days.  She  raised  her  eyes 


The  Crisis  475 

to  his  face — could  it  be  possible  that  this  great  quiet 
man  with  haggard  eyes  and  grim  lips  was  her  old 
playmate?  For  an  instant  her  courage  failed  her — 
she  drew  back. 

"Nedda  I"  he  said,  and  at  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
she  gave  a  cry: 

"Bill!  Bill!  what's  come  over  me  to  stare  at  you 
this  way,"  and  she  laid  her  hands  in  his. 

The  butler  withdrew  and  Bill,  smiling  a  trifle,  held 
her  off  at  arms'  length. 

"Little  Nedda,"  he  mused;  "it  seems  as  though  it 
were  only  yesterday  that  I  left  you  all !  ..." 

He  drew  her  into  the  study  and  seated  her  in  a 
chair.  He  stood  before  her,  smiling  down  at  her, 
and  she  searched  his  face  quickly.  He  was  older, 
yes,  with  a  great  weariness  in  his  eyes  and  in  the 
droop  of  his  shoulders — but  he  was  the  same  Big 
Bill  for  all  that. 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  come,"  he  said  slowly. 
"I'm  glad,  Nedda — do  you  know,  I'm  glad.  ..." 

"I  thought  you  might  need  me,"  she  said  simply. 

He  caught  her  hands  again.  "Nedda !  Nedda ! 

I  do  need  you — I  do "  he  cried,  his  voice  full  of 

pain,  then  he  recovered  himself.  He  drew  up  a 
chair  beside  her.  "You  haven't  changed,"  he  told 
her,  "not  a  bit — just  the  same  little  flower  girl — how 
good  it  is  to  see  you!" 

But  she  would  not  let  him  talk  of  her.  "Bill," 
she  said,  "Tony  tells  me  you're  goin'  away." 


476  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  nodded. 

"Where  are  you  goin'?"  she  demanded. 

He  shook  his  head,  he  seemed  all  at  once  pro- 
foundly tired.  "I  don't  know,  Nedda,  anywhere — 
it  doesn't  greatly  matter." 

She  leaned  forward.  "Why  do  you  say  that,  Bill? 
Isn't  there  nothin'  left  you  want  to  do?" 

He  did  not  meet  her  eyes.  "Nothing,  Nedda," 
he  replied. 

She  insisted  gently,  "That  ain't  like  you,  Bill — 
you've  always  loved  work — ever  since  the  beginnin' 
— you  have  to — just  as  a  framework  of  steel  gird- 
ers becomes  a  finebuildin' — you  became  a  big  man — 
you're  of  the  stuff  big  things  are  made  of — you  can't 
get  away  from  that!" 

He  smiled  at  her.  "You  always  believed  in  me, 
Nedda,  didn't  you?" 

She  nodded.  "That's  why  I  know  you  can't  stop 
now — you'll  have  to  go  on  doin'  big  things  to  the 
end.  .  .  ." 

He  flung  himself  to  his  feet.  "Not  now,  Nedda 
— not  now — I'm  not  the  man  you  used  to  know — he 
was  a  good  fellow  who  deserved  to  succeed — and — 
but  I  don't— I " 

"Why  don't  you?"  she  asked  slowly. 

He  rose,  pacing  restlessly,  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets. "How  can  I  explain,  Nedda?  It's  something 
inside  of  me  that  tells  me  so " 

"No,  it  ain't,"  she  cut  him  short;  "you're  worryin' 


The  Crisis  477 

about  somethin' — that's  what  makes  you  say  it " 

He  whirled  on  her.     "How  did  you  know  that?" 

"I  know,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  speak  for  a  long  while;  she  waited, 
her  hands  loosely  clasped.  At  length  he  paused  be- 
fore her. 

"You're  right,  Nedda,"  he  burst  out — "I  do  know 
— I  was  a  fool  who  threw  away  the  greatest  gift  on 
earth — who  thought  that  other  things  in  life  counted 
more — do  you  know  what  I  mean — Nedda?  Can 
you  guess " 

"You  mean  love,"  she  said  quietly;  "that's  the 
greatest  gift  on  earth." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  cried.  "I  mean  love — but  I  know 
better  now — only  it's  too  late — oh,  Nedda,  don't 
ever  make  that  mistake — no  matter  what  they  tell 
you — hold  it  and  keep  it  and  guard  it — for  it's  the 
one  thing  that  counts " 

She  moved  her  lips,  her  eyes  on  his  face.  "Yes," 
she  whispered,  "it's  the  one  thing  that  counts.  .  .  ." 

He  strode  to  the  window,  his  back  to  her.  "You 
see,"  he  flung  at  her,  "that  feeling  as  I  do  I  can't  go 
on — I  can't  keep  on  doing  the  things  that  took  me 
from  her — that  built  up  a  wall  between  us " 

"No,"  she  said  softly,  "but  there's  other  things 
to  do." 

He  whirled.     "What?    What  do  you  mean?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "When  you're  ready,  I'll 
tell  you." 


478  The  Road  of  Ambition 

But  he  insisted.     "No — tell  me  now — now." 

But  she  would  not.  uNo — go  away  for  awhile — 
and  see  new  people  and  places  and  when  you  are 
tired  of  that  come  back  to  me — and  I'll  tell  you " 

"Nedda  I"  he  cried,  "if  you  think  that  will  help — 
If  you  think  there  is  really  something  left  for 
me " 

She  smiled.  "You  were  made  to  do  big  things, 
Bill — don't  ever  forget  that.  ..." 

The  winter  passed,  and  spring  came  again- — a  ten- 
der, fragrant  season — calling  the  crocuses  from  the 
ground — swelling  the  buds — giving  the  earth  a  man- 
tle of  green — but  instead  of  answering  to  its  call — its 
wide-flung  invitation,  Bethel  neither  saw  nor  heard 
— wrapt  as  it  was  in  its  own  misery. 

War  was  in  the  air — War !  .  .  .  and  with  it  came 
its  forerunners — a  soaring  of  prices — a  blockade  of 
foodstuffs.  With  the  breaking  off  of  diplomatic  re- 
lations, traffic  on  the  high  seas  had  been  suspended 
— and  in  the  shipyards  of  the  country  lay  thousands 
of  tons  of  munitions — in  its  terminals  trainload  upon 
trainload  of  product 

And  the  men  of  the  country  waited — wondering 
dumbly  what  would  happen  next  in  the  game  of  di- 
plomacy— a  game  in  which  they  were  the  pawns — 
wondered  what  would  become  of  their  families  if  the 
call  to  arms  came — if  the  prices  rose  still  higher 

Bethel  suffered  keenly — it  lay  so  close  to  great 


The  Crisis  479 

wealth — it  could  not  fail  to  hear  of  the  First  Fam- 
ilies' follies — their  banquets — and  dances — while 
with  its  dwellers  across  the  track — the  purchasing  of 
bread — of  milk — became  a  grave  problem. 

There  were  small  riots — and  public  gatherings — 
a  spirit  of  sharp  unrest  prevailed — of  waiting  which 
had  almost  reached  the  limit  of  endurance. 

Pattison  watched  the  surliness  of  the  men  with 
rising  uneasiness — he  knew  not  how  to  cope  with  It — 
he  had  been  a  rich  man  all  his  life They  re- 
sented his  advances  on  that  very  ground.  The  bar- 
rel-top speakers  that  shouted  nightly  to  the  gather- 
ings in  Factory  Street  spoke  bitterly  against  him  and 
his  kind — the  listening  crowd  became  more  sullen — 
more  difficult  to  manage 

Pattison,  at  his  wit's  end,  breathed  a  sigh,  "I  wish 
to  heavens  Matthews  were  here,  he'd  know  what  to 
do!" 

Mack  and  Tony  took  their  fears  to  Nedda. 
"There's  goin'  to  be  trouble — no  gettin'  away  from 
it — a  crowd  broke  into  a  bakery  on  Factory  Street 
today  and  cleaned  out  the  place — you  couldn't  arrest 
them,  neither,  because  most  of  'em  was  mothers  with 
babies  in  their  arms — there's  no  one  can  handle  'em 
— I  wish  to  God  Bill  was  back!" 

Benson,  surveying  the  sullenness  of  his  men  at  the 
Works,  was  alarmed;  he  had  never  seen  them  that 
way  before — it  was  an  outgrowth  of  the  inflam- 
matory words  to  which  they  had  been  listening  each 


480  The  Road  of  Ambition 

night — trouble  was  brewing — it  wasn't  that  they 
were  dissatisfied — it  was  that  they  were  distrustful 
— they  were  growing  more  and  more  convinced  that 
the  men  who  owned  the  Works  were  not  their  friends 
— were  waiting  for  a  chance  to  double-cross  them — 
take  back  the  powers  granted  them.  The  poison  of 
the  instigators  had  done  its  work — it  colored  their 
thoughts — there  was  no  dislodging  it. 

"There's  only  one  man  they'd  believe  in,  and 
that's  Big  Bill,"  he  told  himself;  "if  I  knew  where 
to  reach  him!" 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

THE   DAWN   OF   A   NEW   DAY 

TT  was  an  evening  in  April — the  air  for  all  its 
•*•  softness,  held  a  chill,  and  Nedda,  a  coat  about  her 
shoulders,  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  little  house  on  Fac- 
tory Street.  Tony  and  Mack  had  gone  to  a  meeting 
— it  was  to  be  a  fiery  affair — intended  to  whip  the 
crowds  to  greater  unrest.  Why  couldn't  they  get 
wheat  and  flour  as  well  as  the  rich  folk! — why  did 
they  sit  back  and  do  nothing ! — Were  they  going  to 
let  their  children  starve  before  their  very  eyes! 

Nedda  pleaded  with  Tony  to  stay  away,  but  he 
would  not.  "We've  got  to  hear  what  they're  savin' 
— we  won't  know  how  to  handle  them,  if  we  don't." 

She  watched  for  their  return,  leaning  her  head 
against  the  railing — her  body  relaxed.  Suddenly 
her  breath  quickened,  she  sat  up,  staring  at  a  figure 
that  was  approaching — a  man  who  walked  slowly — 
heavily.  She  sprang  to  her  feet — her  cheeks  flam- 
ing, her  lips  parted,  but  she  did  not  move — she 
waited  until  he  came  close  to  her,  until  he  raised  his 
eyes. 

"Bill!  Bill!"  she  cried  with  a  sob,  "you've  come  at 
last!  ..." 

481 


482  The  Road  of  Ambition 

He  stared  at  her.  He  looked  white  and  drawn  as 
though  he  had  fought  a  battle  with  himself  and  lost. 

"Nedda  1"  he  cried,  "to  think  you  should  be  here 
— just  as  though  you  were  waiting  for  me " 

"I  was!"  she  cried,  "every  day — every  hour  I've 
prayed  you  would  come  back.  ..." 

"I've  come,"  he  said,  "but  only  to  tell  you  it's 
no  use — that  I've  tried  and  failed — Nedda,  tell  me 
what  am  I  good  for?" 

She  clasped  her  hands.  "Bill,  do  you  know  why 
you've  come — do  you  know  what's  brought  you  here 
— now — at  this  time? — it's  because  you  heard  them 
calling  you — the  men,  I  mean — because  they  knew 
you  were  the  only  person  in  all  the  world  who  could 
save  us  from  a  strike — a  revolution " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Nedda?" 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "Bill,  I've  been 
praying  and  praying  for  you  to  come  back.  I  told 
you  there  was  work  for  you  to  do — big  work — I 
would  not  tell  you  what  it  was — do  you  remember?" 

He  nodded. 

"Well,"  she  went  on,  "it's  the  biggest  work  in  the 
world,  Bill — not  a  desk  in  Bethel  proper — but 
right  here  in  Factory  Street  where  you  came  from — 
it's  the  kind  of  work  you  can  do  better  than  any  one 
else — it's  the  kind  of  work  that  will  make  you  forget 
yourself  because  you'll  be  so  busy  thinkin'  of  the 
men  you're  helpin'." 

He   caught   her   hands    in   his,    crushing   them. 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day          483 

"Nedda — do  you  mean  that  the  boys  have  been  ask- 
ing for  me ?" 

She  nodded,  crying  softly.  "For  you — yes — yes 
— a  hundred  times — wishin'  you  were  here — hopin' 
you'd  come  back.  What  with  trouble  stirrin'  in  the 
Works  and  with  mothers  who  can't  find  food  for 
their  babies — they  don't  know  what  to  do " 

His  eyes  lightened.  "And  this  is  what  you  meant, 
Nedda?"  he  asked. 

She  nodded.  "Yes — only  I  couldn't  know  they'd 
need  you  so  bad Oh,  Bill,"  she  cried,  breath- 
lessly, "with  you  to  help  here — with  you  at  the  helm 
— there's  nothin'  we  can't  do  !" 

He  caught  her  eagerness — he  laughed  suddenly, 
his  eyes  full  of  light. 

"Stirring  up  trouble,  are  they,  poor  beggars — 
well,  we'll  build  them  milk  stations — yes,  and  soup 
kitchens — we'll  give  them  food  cheaper  than  they've 
ever  had  it " 

"Oh,  Bill!"  she  cried,  the  tears  on  her  cheeks. 
"You've  come  back!  You've  come  back!" 

Bill  Matthews  had  returned !  Bethel  thrilled  with 
the  news — scarcely  believing  it — eager  for  a  glimpse 
of  him — suddenly  reassured  by  his  presence. 

Pattison  was  the  first  to  reach  the  little  house  on 
Factory  Street. 

"Come  back  with  me,"  he  pleaded.  "Make  your 
headquarters  in  Bethel  proper;  Gad!  but  it  does  my 


484  The  Road  of  Ambition 

eyes  good  to  see  you  —  guess  you  knew  we'd  needed 
you  in  the  worst  way  -  " 

Bill  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "I'm  going  to 
stay  right  here,  Pattison;  there's  plenty  to  do. 
Here's  where  I  came  from  —  and  where  I  be- 


And  through  the  weeks  that  followed  he  worked 
day  and  night  —  and  wrhile  he  was  often  silent,  his 
eyes  regained  their  old  light,  he  was  eager  for  more. 

The  men  turned  to  him  like  children  to  a  parent  — 
pitifully  glad  that  he  had  returned.  They  shouted 
aloud  to  their  families  that  all  would  be  well  now 
that  Big  Bill  was  back.  They  hissed  the  street  speak- 
ers from  their  stands  —  they  broke  up  meetings  and 
scattered  the  mutterers  —  all  was  well  now  -  ! 

And  Nedda,  close  by  his  side,  helped  him  with  his 
plans  for  the  men  —  he  would  not  proceed  without 
her  advice  —  and  she  dreamed  of  a  golden  future, 
with  her  hand  joined  in  his. 

Tony  spoke  of  it  to  her,  "Nedda,  it's  you  that 
brought  Bill  back  —  he's  got  you  to  thank." 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "He  would  have  come 
back  anyhow,  it  might  have  took  longer  —  it  might 
not  'a'  been  to  Bethel  —  but  it  would  'a'  been  some- 
where —  he  couldn't  have  lived  unless  he  worked  — 
and  he'd  have  found  sooner  or  later  that  the  people 
needed  him." 

But  Tony  persisted.  "Still  he's  always  sayin'  he 
has  you  to  thank." 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day         485 

"Is  he,  Tony?"  she  asked.    Tony  nodded. 

"Yes — he  says  he  leaves  it  to  you  to  decide  what 
he's  to  do  next " 

She  smiled,  but  did  not  answer. 

When  Tony  had  gone  she  went  to  her  room. 
From  a  shelf  she  lifted  a  box.  She  unfastened  the 
cord  that  bound  it  and  opened  it.  In  it  lay  a  red 
dress — faded  and  creased — and  a  tiny  velvet 
case.  .  .  . 

She  shook  out  the  dress  with  a  smile  on  her  lips — 
and  stroked  its  folds  gently,  then  she  laid  it  back — 
but  at  the  velvet  case  she  did  not  smile — instead, 
her  lips  became  tender,  her  eyes  full  of  dreams — 
she  opened  it  and  lifted  out  the  diamond  brooch  he 
had  given  her.  She  laid  it  against  her  cheek — then 
she  clasped  its  chain  about  her  neck — no  one  could 
see  it  beneath  the  coarse  fabric  of  her  dress,  but  she 
felt  it  against  her  throat  and  the  quick  tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes.  .  .  . 

It  was  her  night  to  teach  at  the  Mission.  She 
would  be  late.  She  drew  down  the  cover  of  the  box 
and  thrust  it  out  of  sight  beneath  her  bed.  For  a 
minute  she  paused,  studying  herself  in  the 
glass.  .  .  .  Was  she  worthy?  .  .  .  Did  she  dare 
hope  that  at  last  the  dream  which  lay  close  to  her 
heart  might  be  fulfilled?  .  .  .  Tony's  words  rang 
in  her  ears. 

"He  says  he  leaves  it  to  you  to  decide  what  he's 
to  do  next  .  " 


486  The  Road  of  Ambition 

She  smiled — and  closed  her  hand  over  the  brooch. 
She  would  decide  then — and  she  would  try  to  make 
him  glad  she  had  done  so  as  long  as  she  lived!  .  .  . 

It  was  damp  out,  with  a  chill  drizzle.  She  shiv- 
ered and  buttoned  her  coat  close  about  her  throat. 
She  gathered  up  her  skirt  and  moved  forward,  her 
head  lowered  against  the  storm.  She  saw  the  lights 
of  the  mission  gleaming  mistily  through  the  fog. 
She  hurried  toward  them,  when  suddenly  she  collided 
sharply  with  someone.  She  looked  up.  It  was  a 
shabby,  shifty-eyed  man,  who,  recovering  himself, 
reached  down  swiftly  for  something  that  lay  gleam- 
ing in  the  gutter. 

Quick  as  a  flash  she  picked  it  up.  It  was  a  gold 
locket. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  he  snapped;  "it's  mine." 

She  glanced  down  at  it.  It  had  fallen  open — by 
the  light  of  the  lamp  overhead  she  could  see  that 
there  was  a  picture  inside.  She  looked  again.  Then 
she  closed  her  hand  over  it  swiftly,  her  lips  set  in  a 
hard  line — there  was  no  mistaking  the  picture  in- 
side— it  was  of  Bill.  .  .  . 

"You've  stole  it !"  she  shot  at  him.  He  seized  her 
arm  roughly,  but  she  flung  him  off.  A  woman  was 
running  toward  her. 

The  thief,  seeing  her,  made  off  with  a  curse,  and 
Nedda  braced  herself — no  doubt  this  was  the  locket's 
owner — Nedda  waited  for  her — so  this  woman  had 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day         487 

Bill's  picture — how  had  she  come  by  it?  By  what 
right  did  she  wear  it?  Nedda  determined  not  to 
give  it  up  without  good  reason — the  woman  called  to 
her. 

"Did  you  stop  him — he  snatched  it  before  I  had 
time  to  think — he " 

The  woman  had  come  beneath  the  rays  of  the 
lamp,  and  Nedda  raised  her  eyes,  then  she  fell  back 
with  a  cry — the  world  rocked  beneath  her  feet — for 
the  woman  waiting  breathless  for  her  to  speak  was 
Daphne.  .  .  . 

"I  saw  you  pick  it  up,"  she  was  saying,  "did  you 
give  it  to  him — did  you ?" 

Nedda  did  not  move,  she  scarcely  breathed — her 
eyes  fastened  on  the  woman's  face.  His  wife  .  .  . 
his  wife.  .  .  . 

"Did  you  give  it  to  him?"  she  insisted.  "I  value 
it  very  greatly " 

Nedda  thrust  her  hand  behind  her. 

"I  gave  it  to  him,"  she  said. 

The  woman  with  a  cry  turned  in  pursuit,  but 
Nedda  caught  her  arm. 

"He's  got  away  with  it,"  she  said;  "you  won't 
never  catch  him  now." 

She  studied  the  woman's  face,  the  sharp  fear  in 
her  eyes — the  quick  intake  of  her  breath. 

"Oh,  but  I  must  get  it  back!"  she  cried.  "I  can't 
lose  that  .  .  .  it's  all  I  have — it's  .  .  ." 

She  stopped.     Nedda  was  speaking.     "I  think  I 


488          The  Road  of  Ambition 

know  who  he  was,"  she  lied.     "If  you  tell  me  your 
name  and  where  you  live  maybe  I  can  get  it  back  for 


"Oh,  if  you  could!"  said  the  woman,  then  she 
hesitated,  but  only  for  an  instant.  "I  visit  the  mis- 
sions to  see  how  they  are  conducted,  I  will  only  be 
here  in  Bethel  tonight  —  but  if  you  should  find  it  you 
can  reach  me,  care  of  the  headquarters  in  New 
York."  Then,  as  though  as  an  afterthought;  she 
added,  "My  name  is  Miss  Dale." 

Nedda  nodded.     "I'll  remember,"  she  said. 

The  woman  smiled.  "Thank  you,"  she  said;  "I 
would  lose  everything  I  own,  rather  than  that,"  and 
she  was  gone  —  gone  —  there  was  nothing  to  assure 
Nedda  that  it  had  not  been  an  illusion  —  a  fancy  of 
her  brain  —  except  the  locket  in  her  hand.  .  .  . 

She  felt  numbed  —  cold  —  dazed.  .  .  .  Daphne 
was  alive  —  by  some  strange  twist  of  fate  —  she  was 
alive  !  Suddenly  she  flung  off  the  spell  that  held  her 
motionless  —  she  clenched  her  hands  —  what  right  had 
this  woman  to  reappear  —  in  this,  the  supreme  hour 
of  her  life  —  this  hour  for  which  she  had  waited  so 
long,  the  wife  he  mourned  as  dead  had  come 
back  .  .  .  but  he  did  not  know  .  .  .  need  he  ever 
know?  This  woman  seemed  content  to  be  apart 
from  him  —  and  yet  Nedda  could  not  forget  the  look- 
in  her  eyes  when  she  learned  the  locket  was  gone  — 
she  loved  him  too.  .  .  .  She  loved  him  too.  .  .  . 

The  rain  beat  down  on  her  face,  but  she  heeded  it 


Xedda  Did  Not  Move  .  .  .  Her  Eyes  Fastened 
on  the  Woman's  Face 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day         489 

not  .  .  .  what  must  she  do?  What  must  she  say? 
After  all,  he  was  hers  now — hers — she  had  brought 
him  back  from  the  valley  of  despair — she  had  found 
for  him  an  interest  in  life.  .  .  .  What  had  this 
woman  done  to  deserve  him? — "It's  for  you  to  say 
what  he  will  do  next!" — for  her  to  say.  .  .  . 
Should  she  send  him  back  to  his  wife?  Or  should 
she  keep  him?  .  .  . 

The  woman  had  said  she  was  going  to  be  there  but 
one  night — that  meant  she  would  disappear  again — 
just  as  she  had  vanished  into  the  fog — no,  the  chance 
was  scant  that  he  would  ever  meet  her — would  ever 
learn  the  truth.  Nedda's  fingers  tightened  about  the 
locket — she  had  waited  so  long !  so  long !  .  .  . 

She  whirled  sharply  and  set  out  toward  home. 
She  hurried  up  the  steps  and  unlocked  the  door. 
With  shaking  hands,  she  pushed  it  open  and  entered. 
In  the  hallway  she  came  face  to  face  with  Bill — she 
staited  back,  slipping  her  hand  quickly  into  her 
pocket,  but  he  came  toward  her.  He  looked  tired, 
but  at  the  sight  of  her  his  face  lighted  up. 

"Nedda!"  he  cried,  "you're  drenched  through — 
where  have  you  been?" 

She  did  not  speak,  her  eyes  on  his  face — how  she 
loved  his  voice — his  smile — his  strong  brown 
hand  chafing  hers — loved  him — loved  him — loved 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  but  she  wrenched 
her  hand  away. 


4QO  The  Road  of  Ambition 

"Nothing,"  she  told  him,  as  she  ran  past  him  up 
the  stairs.  .  .  . 

She  closed  her  door — she  must  fight  this  thing  out 
to  the  end — She  would  never  give  him  up — 
never.  .  .  .  The  woman  was  content  to  let  him  be- 
lieve her  dead — well,  then  he  should  believe  it !  She 
studied  the  face  in  the  locket  hungrily — she  valued 
it,  did  she?  Why,  then,  had  she  thrown  his  love 
away?  With  a  sudden  fear,  she  ran  to  her  bureau 
and  searched  about  until  she  found  a  little  box — she 
dropped  the  locket  inside,  and  tied  it  up — she  thrust 
it  far  back  out  of  sight — then  impulsively  dragged 
it  out,  and  thrust  it  in  the  blouse  of  her  dress.  If  he 
should  ever  find  it  he  would  ask  her  where  it  had 
come  from — she  had  lied  to  the  woman — but  could 
she  lie  to  him?  .  .  .  She  shivered  suddenly,  and 
flung  open  her  door.  She  would  tell  him  tonight 
how  much  she  loved  him — he  was  lonely — well,  with 
her  arms  about  him  he  need  be  lonely  no  more.  .  .  . 
She  was  young — vital — eager,  her  lips  were  warm — 
could  she  not  give  him  as  much  as  the  woman  she 
had  met  in  the  fog?  .  .  . 

She  descended  the  stair  softly,  the  little  study 
he  called  his  own  was  in  darkness.  She  hesitated  in 
the  doorway — had  he  gone  out?  She  entered  and 
when  her  eyes  were  used  to  the  shadows,  she  saw 
him.  His  back  was  turned  toward  her,  but  she  could 
see  that  his  head  was  bowed  in  his  hands.  For  an 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day          491 

instant  the  yearning  to  go  to  him  was  so  great  it 
seemed  as  though  she  could  not  hold  it  in  leash — 
to  stroke  his  head  with  her  fingers,  to  let  him  draw 
her  hand  to  his  cheek — she  closed  her  eyes  in  an  ecs- 
tacy  of  longing.  .  .  .  She  reached  out  her  arms  to 
him.  .  .  . 

He  stirred,  and  she  heard  him  catch  his  breath 
sharply — she  waited,  listening — unashamed — then 
she  caught  the  words  he  whispered  brokenly : 

"Daphne — I  want  you  so — I  need  you.  ..." 

After  a  time  she  leaned  toward  him  and  touched 
his  shoulder.  He  sprang  up. 

"Nedda!"  he  cried.  "I  did  not  know  you  were 
there!" 

She  smiled  a  little.  "There  is  something  I  want 
you  to  do  for  me,  Bill." 

"Anything,"  he  said.     "Anything." 

She  drew  from  her  waist  the  little  package  and 
laid  it  in  his  hands. 

"It's  a  locket  I  found — it  belongs  to  a  Miss  Dale 
at  the  Star  Mission.  Would  you  take  it  to  her  for 
me?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  he  said,  then  he  took  her  hand 
in  his.  "You're  tired,  Nedda,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  said.    "A  little." 

He  patted  her  hand.  "I've  been  making  you  work 
too  hard.  That's  the  trouble.  I'll  be  back  soon," 
he  called,  as  he  left  her. 


492  The  Road  of  Ambition 

But  she  did  not  reply.  She  heard  the  bang  of  the 
front  door,  then  silence.  .  .  . 

"It's  for  you  to  tell  him  what  he'll  do  next " 

Well,  she  had  told  him.  .  .  .  She  reached  out  her 
hand  and  stroked  the  back  of  the  chair  against  which 
his  head  had  rested.  .  .  . 

The  Star  Mission  was  a  low,  rambling  building. 
Its  chapel  windows  were  flung  open — little  shafts  of 
light  piercing  the  mist — and  on  the  night  air  came 
voices  singing — a  warm,  rich  volume  of  sound. 

Bill,  approaching,  was  strangely  stirred.  It  was 
like  a  scene  from  a  play — the  building's  harsh  out- 
lines softened  and  rounded  by  the  mist — its  lights 
dim,  unreal,  the  voices  ringing  out  with  their  mar- 
tial rhythm.  .  .  . 

It  moved  him — and  he  waited  until  the  music  had 
ceased — until  the  droning  of  a  voice  took  up  the 
story  another  had  dropped,  before  he  approached. 

He  mounted  the  steps  and  entered  the  rough  little 
chapel  full  to  overflowing  with  the  flotsam  and  jet- 
sam of  the  tide — men  who  had  come  there  as  a 
refuge  from  the  wet  streets — frowsy  women  with 
tired  eyes — children  who  stared  at  him  frankly. 

On  a  raised  platform  at  the  far  end  of  the  room, 
a  thin-lipped  man  was  extolling  the  virtues  of  work 
— glorifying  the  laborer — and  his  audience  listened, 
for  the  most  part  stolid — unmoved — the  women 
hushing  the  babies  in  their  arms — the  men  stamping 
their  feet  to  get  them  dry. 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day          493 

Bill  smiled  to  himself.  Why  talk  to  them  of  work 
— that  was  their  daily  diet — their  curds  and  whey — 
why  not  tell  them  of  the  things  they  longed  to  hear 
without  knowing  it — of  flowers — of  trees — of  wind- 
swept hilltops — work  had  its  place  in  the  world,  but 
there  were  other  things  infinitely  finer!  He  had 
come  to  know  that  at  last — it  seemed  to  him  almost 
as  though  he  had  been  born  again. 

The  smile  still  lingered  in  his  eyes  as  he  glanced 
about  him — they  were  types — all  of  them — the  rab- 
bit-faced little  woman  at  the  piano  fumbling  the 
leaves  of  a  hymn-book — the  portly  deaconess  beside 
her — the — suddenly  he  paused,  stiffening — were  his 
eyes  playing  him  a  trick?  He  rubbed  them  and 
stared  at  a  woman  whose  back  was  toward  him. 
She  was  slender  and  tall,  with  a  trick  of  up-tilting  her 
chin  that  he  had  seen  but  one  woman  do — one 
woman  in  all  the  world.  .  .  .  He  felt  his  pulses 
pounding — he  must  see  her  face !  He  must  see  her 
face !  And  as  though  she  felt  his  eyes  upon  her  she 
moved  restlessly  away  and  speaking  a  word  to  the 
pianist  passed  from  view  through  a  low  door. 

He  must  see  her!  he  must!  he  almost  cried  the 
words  aloud.  The  thin-lipped  speaker,  having  con- 
cluded his  address,  was  making  his  way  toward  him. 
He  saw  in  him  a  possible  donator,  but  Bill  gave 
him  no  chance  to  speak.  "That  young  lady  in  black, 
who  was  here  a  minute  ago,"  he  burst  out.  "Can 
you  tell  me  her  name?" 


494  The  Road  of  Ambition 

The  thin-lipped  man  glanced  about,  puzzled,  then 
he  nodded. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  think  you  must  mean  Miss  Dale." 
Dale!  So  that  was  her  name!  Of  course,  it  had 
been  just  fancy — then  he  recalled  his  errand. 

"I  would  like  to  see  her  for  a  moment — I  have 
something  for  her." 

"The  locket?"  inquired  the  thin-lipped  man,  "she 
will  be  so  glad." 

He  pointed  eagerly  to  the  little  door.  "She's 
in  the  office,  shall  I  call  her?" 

But  Bill  shook  his  head.  "No,  you  needn't,"  he 
said.  "I'll  take  it  to  her  myself." 

It  was  a  small,  bare  room  with  a  square  desk  in 
its  center  and  a  green  light  directly  above  it,  the  rest 
of  the  room  was  full  of  shadows. 

The  woman  stood  by  the  window.  In  the  half 
light  Bill  saw  the  sweep  of  her  white  throat.  He  en- 
tered softly. 

"Miss  Dale,"  he  said,  "I  have  brought  you  your 
locket." 

She  turned,  and  Bill,  seeing  her,  fell  back  with  a 
cry. 

She  had  not  moved,  but  he  saw  the  throb  of  a  pulse 
in  her  throat — the  rise  and  fall  of  her  quick  breath- 
ing. 

He  stared  at  the  woman  before  him — the  woman 
with  Daphne's  hair — Daphne's  eyes — Daphne's 
curved  red  lips — but  who  could  not  be  she  because 


The  Dawn  of  a  New  Day          495 

she  was  dead  ...  he  was  dreaming — that  was  it — 
he  was  dreaming! 

She  came  toward  him.  She  reached  out  her  hand 
and  touched  him. 

"You !"  she  cried.    "You !" 

She  was  flesh  and  blood — flesh  and  blood!  She 
lived!  She  lived!  She  had  been  given  back  to 
him.  .  .  . 

"Daphne,"  he  whispered  through  white  lips,  "are 
you  real — are  you — you ?" 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  with  a  cry  he 
swept  her  to  him.  .  .  . 

After  a  time  he  spoke,  "Why  did  you  do  it?  Why 
did  you  let  me  think  I  had  lost  you?" 

She  answered  softly,  her  eyes  on  his  face.  "After 
the  wreck,  I  was  ill — very  ill — the  sisters  at  the 
mission  nursed  me,  but  for  a  long  while  I  could  not 
tell  who  I  was  or  where  I  came  from — and  when  I 
grew  better  there  were  long  hours  in  which  to  think 
— and  think.  .  .  .  One  day  I  heard  them  talking 
about  you — I  heard  them  say  that  you  believed  me 
dead — but  that  you  had  gone  on  with  your  work  as 
before — and  when  I  heard  all  this  I  felt  sure  you 
did  not  need  me " 

"Need  you,"  he  cried.     "Daphne!    Daphne!" 

She  drew  his  head  close  to  her  cheek.  "Tell  me 
you  do,"  she  whispered.  "Oh,  tell  me  you  do!  I 
can  never  hear  it  enough.  ...  It  took  so  much 


496  The  Road  of  Ambition 

courage  to  go  on  without  you — and  I  have  so  little 
left — I  am  afraid — afraid " 

He  caught  her  face  between  his  hands  and  gazed 
deep  into  her  eyes. 

"You  need  never  be  afraid  again-"  he  said  slowly. 
She  clung  to  him. 

"I  am  afraid  of  the  big  things  you  will  do — the 
things  that  will  take  you  from  me " 

He  shook  his  head.  "The  biggest  thing  in  the 
world  will  be  making  you  happy,"  he  told  her. 

She  was  content  then  to  feel  his  arms  about  her. 
She  did  not  speak  again  for  a  long  while.  .  .  . 


THE    END 


/    _* 


